

Class^CHi 
.1 



Book. 



mM^ 



Cop)Tiglit X^ 



COP^TtlGHT DEPOSIT. 






Of the Edition Immortal of 

^he Famous Characters of History 

UOOO Sets ha-Oe been printed, 

of which this is Set 




^ 




oUOgETPIHIIMTE. 



)SEFH 



PORTRAIT, JOSEPHINE 



^famous Cbaracters ot Ibistor^ 

JOSEPHINE 

BY 

JOHN S. C. ABBOTT 

Volume XX. 
ILLUSTRATED 



1906 
THE ST. HUBERT GUILD 

NEW YORK 



Workshops : Akron, Ohio 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 


Twn CoDiet Received 


AUG 6 1906 


ClAsS C^ XXc, No. 



COPYRIGHT, 1906, 
BY 

The St. Hubert Guilb 



PREFACE 



Maria Antoinette and Josephine are the two most 
prominent heroines'-^f the French Revolution. The 
history of their lives necessarily records all the most 
interesting events of that most fearful tragedy which 
man has ever enacted. Maria Antoinette beheld the 
morning dawn of the Revolution and Josephine be- 
held the portentous phenomenon fade away. Each of 
these heroines displayed traits of character worthy of 
all imitation. No one can read the history of their 
lives without being ennobled by the contemplation of 
the fortitude and grandeur of spirit they evinced. 



(ix) 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



Chapter Page 

I, LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 1 5 

II. MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE 3O 

III. ARREST OF M. BEAUHARNAIS AND JOSEPHINE . . 45 

IV. SCENES IN PRISON 61 

V. THE RELEASE FROM PRISON 72 

VI. JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 92 

VII. JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 112 

VIII. JOSEPHINE THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. . 1 29 

IX. DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER 1 47 

X. THE CORONATION I7I 

XI. JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 1 99 

XII. THE DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 244 



(xi) 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Josephine 

Page 



PORTRAIT, JOSEPHINE FrofiUspiece 

PORTRAIT, NAPOLEON 1 29 



(xiii) 



JOSEPHINE 



CHAPTER I. 

Life in Martinique. 

Martinique.— Its varied beauties. — Birth of Josephine.— Her parents' death. 

— M. Renaudin. — His kind treatment of his slaves. — Gratitude of the 
slaves. — Josephine a universal favorite. — Hospitality of M. Renaudin. — 
Society at his house. — Early education of Josephine.— Her accomplish- 
ments. — Eupheraie. — She becomes Josephine's bosom companion. — 
Popularity of Josephine. — Childhood enjoyments. — Characteristic traits. 

— The fortune-teller. — Predictions of the sibyl. — Credulity. — More pre- 
dictions. — Their fulfillment. — Explanations of the predictions. — How 
fulfilled. — Falsity of the prediction. — Contemplated match. — Attach- 
ment between Josephine and William. — Their separation. — Rousseau 
throwing stones. — Josephine's superstition. — Deception of friends. — 
Mutual fidelity. 

THE island of Martinique emerges in tropical 
luxuriance from the bosom of the Caribbean 
Sea. A meridian sun causes the whole land 
to smile in perennial verdure, and all the gorgeous 
flowers and luscious fruits of the torrid zone adorn 
upland and prairie in boundless profusion. Mountains, 
densely wooded, rear their summits sublimely to the 
skies, and valleys charm the eye with pictures more 
beautiful than imagination can create. Ocean breezes 
ever sweep these hills and vales, and temper the heat 

(15) 



i6 JOSEPHINE [1760 

of a vertical sun. Slaves, whose dusky limbs are 
scarcely veiled by the lightest clothing, till the soil, 
while the white inhabitants, supported by the indo- 
lent labor of these unpaid menials, loiter away life in 
listless leisure and in rustic luxury. Far removed 
from the dissipating influences of European and Amer- 
ican opulence, they dwell in their secluded island in 
a state of almost patriarchal simplicity. 

About the year 1760, a young French officer. Cap- 
tain Joseph Gaspard Tascher, accompanied his regi- 
ment of horse to this island. While here on profes- 
sional duty, he became attached to a young lady from 
France, whose parents, formerly opulent, in conse- 
quence of the loss of property, had moved to the 
West Indies to retrieve their fortunes. But little is 
known respecting Mademoiselle de Sanois, this young 
lady, who was soon married to M. Tascher. Jo- 
sephine was the only child born of this union. In 
consequence of the early death of her mother, she 
was, while an infant, intrusted to the care of her 
aunt. Her father soon after died, and the little orphan 
appears never to have known a father's or a mother's 
love. 

Madame Renaudin, the kind aunt, who now, with 
maternal affection, took charge of the helpless infant, 
was a lady of wealth, and of great benevolence of 
character. Her husband was the owner of several 
estates, and lived surrounded by all that plain and 



1765] LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 17 

rustic profusion which characterizes the abode of the 
wealthy planter. His large possessions, and his 
energy of character, gave him a wide influence over 
the island. He was remarkable for his humane treat- 
ment of his slaves, and for the successful manner 
with which he conducted the affairs of his plantations. 
The general condition of the slaves of Martinico 
at this time was very deplorable; but on the planta- 
tions of M. Renaudin there was as perfect a state of 
contentment and of happiness as is consistent with 
the deplorable institution of slavery. The slaves, 
many of them but recently torn from their homes in 
Africa, were necessarily ignorant, degraded, and su- 
perstitious. They knew nothing of those more ele- 
vated and refined enjoyments which the cultivated 
mind so highly appreciates, but which are so often 
also connected with the most exquisite suffering. 
Josephine, in subsequent life, gave a very vivid de- 
scription of the wretchedness of the slaves in general, 
and also of the peace and harmony which, in strik- 
ing contrast, cheered the estates of her uncle. When 
the days' tasks were done, the negroes, constitution- 
ally light-hearted and merry, gathered around their 
cabins with songs and dances, often prolonged late 
into the hours of the night. They had never known 
anything better than their present lot. They com- 
pared their condition with that of the slaves on the 
adjoining plantations, and exulted in view of their 

M. of H,-5-a 



i8 JOSEPHINE [1765 

own enjoyments. M. and Madame Renaudin often 
visited their cabins, spoke words of kindness to tliem 
in tiieir liours of sickness and sorrow, encouraged 
the formation of pure attachments and honorable 
marriage among the young, and took a lively interest 
in their sports. The slaves loved their kind master 
and mistress most sincerely, and manifested their af- 
fection in a thousand simple ways which touched 
the heart. 

Josephine imbibed from infancy the spirit of her 
uncle and aunt. She always spoke to the slaves in 
tones of kindness, and became a universal favorite 
with all upon the plantations. She had no playmates 
but the little negroes, and she united with them freely 
in all their sports. Still, these little ebon children of 
bondage evidently looked up to Josephine as to a su- 
perior being. She was the queen around whom they 
circled in affectionate homage. The instinctive fac- 
ulty, which Josephine displayed through life, of win- 
ning the most ardent love of all who met her, while, 
at the same time, she was protected from any undue 
familiarity, she seems to have possessed even at that 
early day. The children, who were her companions 
in all the sports of childhood, were also dutiful sub- 
jects ever ready to be obedient to her will. 

The social position of M. Renaudin, as one of the 
most opulent and influential gentlemen of Martinique, 
necessarily attracted to his hospitable residence much 



1765] LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 19 

refined and cultivated society. Strangers from Europe 
visiting the island, planters of intellectual tastes, and 
ladies of polished manners, met a cordial welcome 
beneath the spacious roof of this abode, where all 
abundance was to be found. Madame Renaudin had 
passed her early years in Paris, and her manners were 
embellished with that elegance and refinement which 
have given to Parisian society such a world-wide 
celebrity. There was, at that period, much more in- 
tercourse between the mother country and the colo- 
nies than at the present day. Thus Josephine, though 
reared in a provincial home, was accustomed, from 
infancy, to associate with gentlemen and ladies who 
were familiar with the etiquette of the highest rank 
in society, and whose conversation was intellectual 
and improving. 

It at first view seems difficult to account for the 
high degree of mental culture which Josephine dis- 
played, when, seated by the side of Napoleon, she 
was the Empress of France. Her remarks, her letters, 
her conversational elegance, gave indication of a mind 
thoroughly furnished with information and trained by 
severe discipline. And yet, from all the glimpses we 
can catch of her early education, it would seem that, 
with the exception of the accomplishments of music, 
dancing, and drawing, she was left very much to the 
guidance of her own instinctive tastes. But, like 
Madame Roland, she was blessed with that peculiar 



20 JOSEPHINE [1765 

mental constitution, wiiicli led her, of her own ac- 
cord, to treasure up all knowledge which books or 
conversation brought within her teach. From child- 
hood until the hour of her death, she was ever im- 
proving her mind by careful observation and studious 
reading. She played upon the harp with great skill, 
and sang with a voice of exquisite melody She also 
read with a correctness of elocution and a fervor of 
feeling which ever attracted admiration. The morn- 
ing of her childhood was indeed bright and sunny, 
and her gladdened heart became so habituated to joy- 
ousness, that her cheerful spirit seldom failed her 
even in the darkest days of her calamity. Her pas- 
sionate love for flowers had interested her deeply in 
the study of botany, and she also became very skill- 
ful in embroidery, that accomplishment which was 
once deemed an essential part of the education of 
every lady. 

Under such influences Josephine became a child of such 
grace, beauty, and loveliness of character as to attract 
the attention and the admiration of all who saw her. 
There was an afTectionateness, simplicity, and frankness 
in her manners which won all hearts. Her most in- 
timate companion in these early years was a young 
mulatto girl, the daughter of a slave, and report said, 
with how much truth it is impossible to know, that 
she was also the daughter of Captain Tascher before 
his marriage. Her name was Euphemie. She was a 



1765] LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 21 

year or two older than Josephine, but she attached 
herself with deathless affection to her patroness; and, 
though Josephine made her a companion and a con- 
fidante, she gradually passed, even in these early years, 
into the position of a maid of honor, and clung de- 
votedly to her mistress through all the changes of 
subsequent life. Josephine, at this time secluded from 
all companionship with young ladies of her own rank 
and age, made this humble but active-minded and in- 
telligent girl her bosom companion. They rambled 
together, the youthful mistress and her maid, in pen 
feet harmony. From Josephine's more highly-cultivated 
mind the lowly-born child derived intellectual stimulus, 
and thus each day became a more worthy and con- 
genial associate. As years passed on, and Josephine 
ascended into higher regions of splendor, her humble 
attendant gradually retired mto more obscure positions, 
though she was ever regarded by her true-hearted 
mistress v^ith great kindness, 

Josephine was a universal favorite with all the little 
negro girls of the plantation. They looked up to her 
as a protectress whom they loved, and to whom they 
owed entire homage. She would frequently collect a 
group of them under the shade of the luxuriant trees 
of that tropical island, and teach them the dances 
which she had learned, and also join with them as a 
partner. She loved to assemble them around her, and 
listen to those simple negro melodies which penetrate 



22 JOSEPHINE [1770 

every neart which can feel the power of music. Again, 
all their voices, in sweet harmony, blended with hers 
as she taught them the more scientific songs of 
Europe. She would listen with unaffected interest to 
their tales of sorrow, and weep with them. Often 
she interposed in their behalf that their, tasks might be 
lightened, or that a play-day might be allowed them. 
Thus she was as much beloved and admired in the 
cabin of the poor negro as she was in her uncle's 
parlor, where intelligence and refinement were assem- 
bled. This same character she displayed through the 
whole of her career. Josephine upon the plantation 
and Josephine upon the throne — Josephine surrounded 
by the sable maidens of Martinique, and Josephine 
moving in queenly splendor in the palaces of Versailles, 
with all the courtiers of Europe revolving around her, 
displayed the same traits of character, and by her 
unaffected kindness won the hearts alike of the lowly 
and of the exalted. 

About this time an occurrence took place which 
has attracted far more attention than it deserves. 
Josephine was one day walking under the shade of 
the trees of the plantation, when she saw a number 
of negro children gathered around an aged and with- 
ered negress, who had great reputation among the 
slaves as a fortune-teller. Curiosity induced Josephine 
to draw near the group to hear what the sorceress 
had to say. The old sibyl, with the cunning which 



1772] LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 23 

is characteristic of her craft, as soon as she saw Jo- 
sephine approach, whom she knew perfectly, assumed 
an air of great agitation, and, seizing her hand vio- 
lently, gazed with most earnest attention upon the 
lines traced upon the palm. The little negresses were 
perfectly awe-stricken by this oracular display. Jo- 
sephine, however, was only amused, and smiling, 
said, 

"So you discover something very extraordinary in 
my destiny?" 

"Yes!" replied the negress, with an air of great 
solemnity. 

"Is happiness or misfortune to be my lot?" Jo- 
sephine inquired. 

The negress again gazed upon her hand, and then 
replied, "Misfortune;" but, after a moment's pause, 
she added, "and happiness too." 

"You must be careful, my good woman," Joseph- 
ine rejoined, "not to commit yourself. Your pre- 
dictions are not very intelligible." 

The negress, raising her eyes with an expression 
of deep mystery to heaven, rejoined, "I am not per- 
mitted to render my revelations more clear." 

In every human heart there is a vein of credulity. 
The pretended prophetess had now succeeded in fairly 
arousing the curiosity of Josephine, who eagerly in- 
quired, "What do you read respecting me in futu- 
rity? Tell me exactly." 



24 JOSEPHINE [1772 

Again the negress, assuming an air of profound 
solemnity 1 said, "You will not believe me if I reveal 
to you your strange destiny." 

"Yes, indeed, I assure you that I will," Josephine 
thoughtlessly replied. "Come, good mother, do tell 
me what I have to hope and what to fear," 

*'0n your own head be it, then. Listen. You 
will soon be married. That union will not be happy. 
You will become a widow, and then you will be 
Queen of France. Some happy years will be yours, 
but afterward you will die in a hospital, amid civil 
commotions." 

The old woman then hurried away. Josephine 
talked a few moments with the young negroes upon 
the folly of this pretended fortune-telling, and leaving 
them, the affair passed from her mind. In subse- 
quent years, when toiling through the vicissitudes of 
her most eventful life, she recalled the singular coin- 
cidence between her destiny and the prediction, and 
seemed to consider that the negress, with prophetic 
vision, had traced out her wonderful career. 

But what is there so extraordinary in this narra- 
tive? What maiden ever consulted a fortune-teller 
without receiving the agreeable announcement that 
she was to wed beauty, and wealth, and rank? It 
was known universally, and it was a constant sub- 
ject of plantation gossip, that the guardians of Jo- 
sephine were contemplating a match for her with the 



1772] LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 25 

son of a neighboring planter. The negroes did not 
think him half worthy of their adored and queenly 
Josephine. They supposed, however, that the match 
was settled. The artful woman was therefore com- 
pelled to allow Josephine to marry at first the undis- 
tinguished son of the planter, v/ith whom she could 
not be happy. She, however, very considerately lets 
the unworthy husband in a short time die, and then 
Josephine becomes a queen. This is the old story, 
which has been repeated to half the maidens 
in Christendom. It is not very surprising that in 
this one case it should have happened to prove 
true. 

But, unfortunately, our prophetess went a little 
farther, and predicted that Josephine would die in a 
hospital — implying poverty and abandonment. This 
part of the prediction proved to be utterly untrue. 
Josephine, instead of dying in a hospital, died in the 
beautiful palace of Malmaison. Instead of dying in 
poverty, she was one of the richest ladies in Europe, 
receiving an income of some six hundred thousand 
dollars a year. The grounds around her palace were 
embellished with all the attractions, and her apart- 
ments with every luxury which opulence could pro- 
vide. Instead of dying in friendlessness and neglect, 
the Emperor Alexander of Russia stood at her bed- 
side; the most illustrious kings and nobles of Europe 
crowded her court and did her homage. And though 



26 JOSEPHINE [1772 

she was separated from her husband, she still retained 
the title of Empress, and was the object of his most 
sincere affection and esteem. 

Thus this prediction, upon which so much stress 
has been laid, seems to vanish in the air. It surely 
is not a supernatural event that a young lady, who 
was told by an aged negress that she would be a 
queen, happened actually to become one. 

We have alluded to a contemplated match be- 
tween Josephine and the son of a neighboring planter. 
An English family, who had lost property and rank 
in the convulsions of those times, had sought a re- 
treat in the island of Martinique, and were cultivating 
an adjoining plantation. In this family there was a 
very pleasant lad, a son, of nearly the same age with 
Josephine. The plantations being near to each other, 
they were often companions and playmates. A strong 
attachment grew up between them. The parents of 
WiUiam, and the uncle and aunt of Josephine, ap- 
proved cordially of this attachment, and were desirous 
that these youthful hearts should be united, as soon 
as the parties should arrive at mature age. Joseph- 
ine, in the ingenuous artlessness of her nature, dis- 
guised not in the least her strong affection for Wil- 
liam. And his attachment to her was deep and 
enduring. The solitude of their lives peculiarly tended 
to promote fervor of character. 

Matters were in this state, when the father of 



1773] LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 27 

William received an intimation from England that, by 
returning to his own country, he might, perhaps, re- 
gain his lost estates. He immediately prepared to 
leave the island with his family. The separation was 
a severe blow to these youthful lovers. They wept, 
and vowed eternal fidelity. 

It is not surprising that Josephine should have 
been in some degree superstitious. The peculiarity of 
her life upon the plantation — her constant converse 
with the negroes, whose minds were imbued with all 
the superstitious notions which they had brought from 
Africa, united with those which they had found upon 
the island, tended to foster those feelings. Rousseau, 
the most popular and universally-read French writer 
of that day, in his celebrated "Confessions," records 
with perfect composure that he was one day sitting 
in a grove, meditating whether his soul would prob- 
ably be saved or lost. He felt that the question was 
of the utmost importance. How could he escape from 
the uncertainty! A supernatural voice seemed to sug- 
gest an appeal to a singular kind of augury. "I 
will," said he, "throw this stone at that tree. If I 
hit the tree, it shall be a sign that my soul is to be 
saved. If I miss it, it shall indicate that I am to be 
lost." He selected a large tree, took the precaution of 
getting near to it, and threw his stone plump against 
the trunk. "After that," says the philosopher, "I 
never again had a doubt respecting my salvation." 



28 JOSEPHINE [1774 

Josephine resorted to the same kind of augury to 
ascertain if William, who had become a student in 
the University of Oxford, still remained faithful to her. 
She not unfrequently attempted to beguile a weary 
hour in throwing pebbles at the trees, that she might 
divine whether William were then thinking of her. 
Months, however, passed away, and she received no 
tidings from him. Though she had often written, 
her letters remained unansweied. Her feelings were 
the more deeply wounded, since there were other 
friends upon the island with whom he kept up a cor- 
respondence; but Josephine never received even a 
message through them. 

One day, as she was pensively rambling in a 
grove, where she had often walked with her absent 
lover, she found carved upon a tree the names of 
William and Josephine. She knew well by whose 
hand they had been cut, and, entirely overcome with 
emotion, she sat down and wept bitterly. With the 
point of a knife, and with a trembling hand, she in- 
scribed in the bark these words, peculiarly character- 
istic of her depth of feeling, and of the gentleness of 
her spirit: "Unhappy William! thou hast forgotten 
me!" 

William, however, had not forgotten her. Again 
and again he had written in terms of the most ardent 
affection. But the friends of Josephine, meeting with 
an opportunity for a match for her which they deemed 



1775] LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 29 

far more advantageous, had destroyed these communi- 
cations, and also had prevented any of her letters 
from reaching the hand of William. Thus each, while 
cherishing the truest affection, deemed the other 
faithless. 




CHAPTER II. 
The Marriage of Josephine. 

Alexander de Beanharnais. — Ilis charnctcr.— A new suitor. — Motives for the 
jnurriage. — The ainiounocnicnt. — Ket-liuKs of Josephine. — Zeal of M. 
Bcaiihnrnais. — The engagement. — Departure from Martinique. — Parliug 
scenes. — Josei)hine's arrival in I''ranec. — Her interview with William. — 
Kxplanatlon of William. — Distress of Josephine. — Josephine retires to a 
convent. — She marries the Vi.scount Heanharnais. — Fashionable life. — 
Josephine is introduced at court.— Maria Antoinette and Josephine. — 
French philosojjhy. — IJirth of a daughter.— Infidelity of lieauharnais. — 
llirth of a son. — An arch deceiver. — Josephine betrayed. — Application 
for a divorce. — Jascphine triinu])hant. — Visit to Ver.saillcs. — Interview 
with Maria Antoinette. — Kindness of the queen. — Jo.sephine embarks 
for Martinique.— Hours of despondency,— Josephine arrives at Marti- 
nique. — Her kind reception. 

JOSEPHINE was about fourteen years of age when 
she was scpai-ated from William. A year passed 
away, during which she received not a line from 
her absent friend. About this time a gentleman from 
France visited her uncle upon business of great im- 
portance. Viscount Alexander de Beauharnais was a 
fashionable and gallant young man, about thirty years 
of age, possessing much conversational ease and grace 
of manner, and accustomed to the most polished 
society of the French metropolis. Fie held a commis- 
sion in the army, and had already signalized himself 
by several acts of bravery. His sympathies had been 
strongly aroused by the struggle of the American 



1775] THE MARRIAGE 31 

colonists with the mother country, and he had already 
aided the colonists both with his sword and his 
purse. 

Several large and valuable estates in Martinique, 
adjoining the plantation of M. Renaudin, had fallen by 
inheritance to this young officer and his brother, the 
Marquis of Beauharnais. He visited Martinique to 
secure the proof of his title to these estates. M. 
Renaudin held some of these plantations on lease. In 
the transaction of this business, Beauharnais spent 
much time at the mansion of M. Renaudin. He, of 
course, saw much of the beautiful Josephine, and was 
fascinated with her grace, and her mental and phys- 
ical loveliness. 

The uncle and aunt of Josephine were delighted 
to perceive the interest which their niece had awak- 
ened in the bosom of the interesting stranger. His 
graceful figure, his accomplished person, his military 
celebrity, his social rank, and his large fortune, all 
conspired to dazzle their eyes, and to lead them to do 
every thing in their power to promote a match appar- 
ently so eligible. The ambition of M. Renaudin was 
moved at the thought of conferring upon his niece, 
the prospective heiress of his own fortune, an estate 
so magnificent as the united inheritance. Josephine, 
however, had not yet forgotten William, and, though 
interested in her uncle's guest, for some time allowed 
no emotion of love to flow out toward him. 



32 JOSEPHINE [1775 

One morning Josephine was sitting in the library 
in pensive musings, when her uncle came into the 
room to open to her the subject of her contemplated 
marriage with M. Beauharnais. Josephine was thun- 
derstruck at the communication, for, according to the 
invariable custom of the times, she knew that she 
could have but little voice in the choice of a partner 
for life. For a short time she listened in silence to 
his proposals, and then said, with tears in her 
eyes, 

"Dear uncle, I implore you to remember that my 
affections are fixed upon William. I have been 
solemnly promised to him." 

"That is utterly impossible, my child," her uncle 
replied. "Circumstances are changed. All our hopes 
are centered in you. You must obey our wishes." 

"And why," said she, "have you changed your 
intentions in reference to WiUiam ? " 

Her uncle replied: "You will receive by inheritance 
all my estate. M. Beauharnais possesses the rich 
estates adjoining. Your union unites the property. 
M. Beauharnais is every thing which can be desired 
in a husband. Besides, William appears to have for- 
gotten you." 

To this last remark Josephine could make no 
reply. She looked sadly upon the floor and was 
silent. It is said that her uncle had then in his pos- 
session several letters which William had written her. 



1775] THE MARRIAGE 32 

replete with the most earnest spirit of constancy and 
affection. 

Josephine, but fifteen years of age, could not, un- 
der these circumstances, resist the influences now 
brought to bear upon her. M, Beauharnais was a 
gentleman of fascinating accomplishments. The re- 
luctance of Josephine to become his bride but stimu- 
lated his zeal to obtain her. In the seclusion of the 
plantation, and far removed from other society, she 
was necessarily with him nearly at all hours. They 
read together, rode on horseback side by side, ram- 
bled in the groves in pleasant companionship. They 
floated by moonlight upon the water, breathing the 
balmy air of that delicious clime, and uniting their 
voices in song, the measure being timed with the 
dipping of the oars by the negroes. The friends of 
Josephine were importunate for the match. At last, 
reluctantly she gave her consent. Having done this, 
she allowed her affections, unrestrained, to repose 
upon her betrothed. Though her heart still clung to 
William, she thought that he had found other friends 
in England, in whose pleasant companionship he had 
lost all remembrance of the island maiden who had 
won his early love. 

Alexander Beauharnais, soon after his engagement 
to Josephine, embarked for France. Arrangements 
had been made for Josephine, in the course of a few 
months, to follow him, upon a visit to a relative in 

M. ofH.— 5— 3 



34 JOSEPHINE [1775 

Paris, and there the nuptials were to be consummated. 
Josephine was now fifteen years of age. She was 
attached to Beauharnais, but not with that fervor of 
feeling which had previously agitated her heart. She 
often thought of William and spoke of him, and at 
times had misgivings lest there might be some ex- 
planation of his silence. But months had passed on, 
and she had received no letter or message from him. 

At length the hour for her departure from the 
island arrived. With tearful eyes and a saddened heart 
she left the land of her birth, and the scenes endeared 
to her by all the recollections of childhood. Groups 
of negroes, from the tottering infant to the aged man 
of gray hairs, surrounded her with weeping and loud 
lamentation. Josephine hastened on board, the ship 
got under way, and soon the island of Martinique 
disappeared beneath the watery horizon. Josephine 
sat upon the deck in perfect silence, watching the 
dim outline of her beloved home till it was lost to 
sight. Her young heart was full of anxiety, of ten- 
derness, and of regrets. Little, however, could she 
imagine the career of strange vicissitudes upon which 
she was about to enter. 

The voyage was long and tempestuous. Storms 
pursued them all the way. At one time the ship was 
dismasted and came near foundering. At length the 
welcome cry of "Land" was heard, and Josephine, 
an unknown orphan child of fifteen, placed her feet 



1775] THE MARRIAGE 35 

upon the shores of France, that country over which 
she was soon to reign the most renowned empress. 
She hastened to Fontainebleau, and was there met by 
Alexander Beauharnais. He received her with great 
fondness, and was assiduous in bestowing upon her 
the most flattering attentions. But Josephine had 
hardly arrived at Fontainebleau before she heard that 
William and his father were also residing at that 
place. Her whole frame trembled like an aspen leaf, 
and her heart sunk within her as she received the 
intelligence. All her long-cherished affection for the 
companion of her childhood was revived, and still she 
knew not but that William was faithless. He, how- 
ever, immediately called, with his father, to see her. 
The interview was most embarrassing, for each loved 
the other intensely, and each had reason to believe 
that the other had proved untrue. The next day 
William called alone; Josephine, the betrothed bride 
of Beauharnais, prudently declined seeing him. He 
then wrote her a letter, which he bribed a servant to 
place in her hands, full of protestations of love, stat- 
ing how he had written to her, and passionately in- 
quiring why she turned so coldly from him. 

Josephine read the letter with a bursting heart. 
She now saw how she had been deceived. She now 
was convinced that William had proved faithful to 
her, notwithstanding he had so much reason to be- 
lieve that she had been untrue to him. But what 



36 JOSEPHINE [1775 

could she do? She was but fifteen years of age. 
She was surrounded only by those who were deter- 
mined that she should marry Alexander Beauharnais. 
She was told that the friends of William had decided 
unalterably that he should marry an English heiress, 
and that the fortunes of his father's family were de- 
pendent upon that alliance. The servant who had 
been the bearer of William's epistle was dismissed, 
and the other servants were commanded not to allow 
him to enter the house. 

The agitation of Josephine's heart was such that 
for some time she was unable to leave her bed. She 
entreated her friends to allow her for a few months 
to retire to a convent, that she might, in solitary 
thought and prayer, regain composure. Her friends 
consented to this arrangement, and she took refuge 
in the convent at Panthemont. Here she spent a few 
months in inexpressible gloom. William made many 
unavailing efforts to obtain an interview, and at last, 
in despair, reluctantly received the wealthy bride, 
through whom he secured an immense inheritance, 
and with whom he passed an unloving life. 

The Viscount Beauharnais often called to see her, 
and was permitted to converse with her at the gate 
of her window. In the simplicity of her heart, she 
told her friends at the convent of her attachment for 
William; how they had been reared together, and 
how they had loved from childhood. She felt that it 



1777] THE MARRIAGE 37 

was a cruel fate which separated them, but a fate be- 
fore which each must inevitably bow. At last she 
calmly made up her mind to comply with the wishes 
of her friends, and to surrender herself to the Viscount 
Beauharnais. There was much in the person and 
character of Beauharnais to render him very attractive, 
and she soon became sincerely, though never passion- 
ately, attached to him. 

Josephine was sixteen years of age when she was 
married. Her social position was in the midst of the 
most expensive and fashionable society of Paris. She 
was immediately involved in all the excitements of 
parties, and balls, and gorgeous entertainments. Her 
beauty, her grace, her amiability, and her peculiarly 
musical voice, which fell like a charm upon every 
ear, excited great admiration and not a little envy. 
It was a dangerous scene into which to introduce 
the artless and inexperienced Creole girl, and she 
was not a little dazzled by the splendor with which 
she was surrounded. Every thing that could minis- 
ter to convenience, or that could gratify taste, was 
lavished profusely around her. For a time she was 
bewildered by the novelty of her situation. But soon 
she became weary of the heartless pageantry of fash- 
ionable life, and sighed for the tranquil enjoyments of 
her island home. 

Her husband, proud of her beauty and accom- 
plishments, introduced her at court. Maria Antoi- 



38 JOSEPHINE [1778 

nette, who had then just ascended the throne, and 
was in the brilliance of her youth, and beauty, and 
early popularity, was charmed with the West Indian 
bride, and received her without the formality of a 
public presentation. When these two young brides 
met in the regal palace of Versailles — the one a 
daughter of Maria Theresa and a descendant of the 
Caesars, who had come from the court of Austria to 
be not only the queen, but the brightest ornament of 
the court of France — the other the child of a planter, 
born upon an obscure island, reared in the midst of 
negresses, as almost her only companions — little did 
they imagine that Maria Antoinette was to go down, 
down, down to the lowest state of ignominy and 
woe, while Josephine was to ascend to more and 
more exalted stations, until she should sit upon a 
throne more glorious than the Caesars ever knew. 

French philosophy had at this time undermined 
the religion of Jesus Christ. All that is sacred in the 
domestic relations was withering beneath the blight 
of infidelity. Beauharnais, a man of fashion and of 
the world, had imbibed, to the full, the sentiments 
which disgraced the age. Marriage was deemed a 
partnership, to be formed or dissolved at pleasure. 
Fidelity to the nuptial tie was the jest of philoso- 
phers and witlings. Josephine had soon the mortifi- 
cation of seeing a proud, beautiful, and artful woman 
taking her place, and openly and triumphantly claim- 



lySo] THE MARRIAGE 39 

ing the attentions and the affections of her husband. 
This woman, high in rank, loved to torture her poor 
victim. "Your dear Alexander," she said to Joseph- 
ine, "daily lavishes upon others the tribute of at- 
tachment which you think he reserves solely for 
you." She could not bear to see the beautiful and 
virtuous Josephine happy, as the honored wife of her 
guilty lover, and she resolved, if possible, to sow the 
seeds of jealousy so effectually between them as to 
secure a separation. 

In the year 1780 Josephine gave birth to her 
daughter Hortense. This event seemed for a time to 
draw back the wandering affections of Beauharnais. 
He was really proud of his wife. He admired her 
beauty and her grace. He doted upon his infant 
daughter. But he was an infidel. He recognized no 
law of God, commanding purity of heart and life, 
and he contended that Josephine had no right to 
complain, as long as he treated her kindly, if he did 
indulge in the waywardness of passion. 

The path of Josephine was now, indeed, shrouded 
in gloom, and each day seemed to grow darker and 
darker„ Hortense became her idol and her only com- 
fort. Her husband lavished upon her those luxuries 
which his wealth enabled him to grant. He was kind 
to her in words and in all the ordinary courtesies of 
intercourse. But Josephine's heart was well-nigh 
broken. A few years of conflict passed slowly away, 



40 JOSEPHINE [1783 

when she gave birth, in the year 1783, to her son 
Eugene. In the society of her children the unhappy 
mother found now her only solace. 

While the Viscount Beauharnais was ready to de- 
fend his own conduct, he was by no means willing 
that his wife should govern herself by the same prin- 
ciples of fashionable philosophy. The code infidel is 
got up for the especial benefit of dissolute men; their 
wives must be governed by another code. The art- 
ful woman, who was the prime agent in these diffi- 
culties, affected great sympathy with Josephine in her 
sorrows, protested her own entire innocence, but as- 
sured her that M. Beauharnais was an ingrate, entirely 
unworthy of her affections. She deceived Josephine, 
hoarded up the confidence of her stricken heart, and 
conversed with her about William, the memory of 
whose faithful love now came with new freshness to 
the disconsolate wife. 

Josephine, lured by her, wrote a letter to her 
friends in Martinique, in which she imprudently said, 
"Were it not for my children, I should, without a 
pang, renounce France forever. My duty requires me 
to forget William; and yet, if we had been united to- 
gether, I should not to-day have been troubling you 
with my griefs." 

The woman who instigated her to write this 
letter was infamous enough to obtain it by stealth 
and show it to Beauharnais. His jealousy and indig- 



1783] THE MARRIAGE 41 

nation were immediately aroused to the highest pitch. 
He was led by this malicious deceiver to believe that 
Josephine had obtained secret interviews with William, 
and the notoriously unfaithful husband was exasper- 
ated to the highest degree at the very suspicion 
of the want of fidelity in his wife. He reproached 
her in language of the utmost severity, took Eugene 
from her, and resolved to endeavor, by legal process, 
to obtain an entire divorce. She implored him, for 
the sake of her children, not to proclaim their diffi- 
culties to the world. He, however, reckless of con- 
sequences, made application to the courts for the 
annulment of the matrimonial bond. Josephine was 
now compelled to defend her own character. She 
again retired with Hortense to the convent, and there, 
through dreary months of solitude, and silence, and 
dejection, awaited the result of the trial upon which 
her reputation as a virtuous woman was staked. The 
decree of the court was triumphantly in her favor, 
and Josephine returned to her friends to receive their 
congratulations, but impressed with the conviction 
that earth had no longer a joy in store for her. Her 
friends did all in their power to cheer her desponding 
spirit; but the wound she had received was too deep 
to be speedily healed. One day her friends, to divert 
her mind from brooding over irreparable sorrows, 
took her, almost by violence, to Versailles. They 
passed over the enchanting grounds, and through the 



42 JOSEPHINE [1784 

gorgeously-furnished apartments of the Great and 
Little Trianon, the favorite haunts of Maria Antoinette. 
Here the beautiful Queen of France was accustomed 
to lay aside the pageantry of royalty, and to enjoy, 
without restraint, the society of those who were dear 
to her. Days of darkness and trouble had already 
begun to darken around her path. As Josephine was 
looking at some of the works of art, she was greatly 
surprised at the entrance of the queen, surrounded by 
several ladies of her court. Maria Antoinette imme- 
diately recognized Josephine, and with that air of 
affability and kindness which ever characterized her 
conduct, she approached her, and, with one of her 
winning smiles, said, "Madame Beauharnais, I am 
very happy to see you at the two Trianons. You 
well know how to appreciate their beauties. I should 
be much pleased to learn what objects you consider 
most interesting. 1 shall always receive you with 
pleasure." 

These words from the queen were an unspeakable 
solace to Josephme. Her afflicted heart needed the 
consolation. The queen was acquainted with her 
trials, and thus nobly assured her of her sympathy 
and her confidence. In a few days Maria Antomette 
invited Josephine to a private interview She ad- 
dressed her in words of the utmost kindness, prom- 
ised to watch over the interests of her son, and at 
the same time, as a mark of her especial regard, she 



1784] THE MARRIAGE 43 

took from her neck an antique ornament of precious 
stones, and passed it over tiie neck of Josephine. 
The king also himself came in at the interview, for 
his heart had been softened by sorrow, and addressed 
words of consolation to the injured and discarded 
wife. 

Josephine now received letters from Martinique 
earnestly entreating her to return, with her children, 
to the home of her childhood. World-weary, she 
immediately resolved to accept the invitation. But 
the thought of crossing the wide ocean, and leaving 
her son Eugene behind, was a severe pang to a 
mother's heart. Eugene had been taken from her and 
sent to a boarding-school. Josephine felt so deeply 
the pang of separation from her beloved child, that 
she obtained an interview with M. Beauharnais, and 
implored him to allow her to take Eugene with her. 
He gave a cold and positive refusal. 

A few days after this, Josephine, cruelly separated 
from her husband and bereaved of her son, embarked 
with Hortense for Martinique. She strove to maintain 
that aspect of cheerfulness and of dignity which an 
injured but innocent woman is entitled to exhibit. 
When dark hours of despondency overshadowed her, 
she tried to console herself with the beautiful thought 
of Plautus: "If we support adversity with courage, 
we shall have a keener relish for returning prosper- 
ity." It does not appear that she had any refuge in 



'44 JOSEPHINE [1785 

the consolations of religion. She had a vague and 
general idea of the goodness of a superintending 
Providence, but she was apparently a stranger to 
those warm and glowing revelations of Christianity 
•which introduce us to a sympathizing Savior, a guid- 
mg, and consoling Spirit, a loving and forgiving 
Father. Could she then, by faith, have reposed her 
aching head upon the bosom of her heavenly Father, 
she might have found a solace such as nothing else 
could confer. But at this time nearly every mind in 
France was more or less darkened by the glooms of 
infidelity. 

The winds soon drove her frail bark across the 
Atlantic, and Josephine, pale and sorrow-stricken, was 
clasped in the arms and folded to the hearts of those 
who truly loved her. The affectionate negroes gath- 
ered around her, with loud demonstrations of their 
sympathy and their joy in again meeting their mis- 
tress. Here, amid the quiet scenes endeared to her 
by the recollections of childhood, she found a tempo- 
rary respite from those storms by which she had been 
so severely tossed upon life's wild and tempestuous 
ocean. 




CHAPTER III. 

Arrest of M. Beauharnais and Josephine. 

Sadness of Josephine. — Dissipation of Beauharnais. — Repentance of Beauhar- 
nai.s. — Josephine returns to France. — The Jewels. — Anecdote of the old 
shoes. — Hortense without shoes. — The kind old sailor.— The shoes 
made. — Eventful life of Hortense. — Marriage of Hortense. — Queen of 
Holland. — Death of Hortense. — Meeting of Josephine and Beauharnais. 
— Influential character of Beauharnais. — Jacobai.s and Girondists. — The 
Jacobins triumphant. — Fearful commotions. — The warning. — Alarm of 
Josephine. — Beauharnais proudly refuses to attempt an escape. — En- 
treaties of Josephine. — Arrest of Beauharnais. — Beneficence of Joseph- 
ine.— The children deceived.— Indiscretions. — Arrest of Josephine. — 
Josephine takes leave of her sleeping children.— A mother's tears. — 
Brutality of the soldiers.— Josephine dragged to the Carmelites. — For- 
lorn condition of the children.— They find a protector. — Gloomy fore- 
bodings of Beauharnais and Josephine. 

JOSEPHINE remained in Martinique three years. She 
passed her time in tranquil sadness, engaged in 
reading, in educating Hortense, and in unwearied 
acts of kindness to those around her. Like all noble 
minds, she had a great fondness for the beauties of 
nature. The luxuriant groves of the tropics, the se- 
rene skies which overarched her head, the gentle 
zephyrs which breathed through orange groves, all were 
congenial with her pensive spirit. The thought of 
Eugene, her beautiful boy, so far from her, preyed 
deeply upon her heart. Often she retired alone to 

(45) 



46 JOSEPHINE [1786 

some of those lonely walks which she loved so well, 
and wept over her alienated husband and her lost 
child. 

M. Beauharnais surrendered himself for a time, 
without restraint, to every indulgence. He tried, in 
the society of sin and shame, to forget his wife and 
his absent daughter. He, however, soon found that no 
friend can take the place of a virtuous and an affec- 
tionate wife. The memory of Josephine's gentleness, 
and tenderness, and love came flooding back upon his 
heart. He became fully convinced of his injustice to 
her, and earnestly desired to have her restored again 
to him and to his home. He sent communications to 
Josephine, expressive of his deep regret for the past, 
promising amendment for the future, assuring her of his 
high appreciation of her elevated and honorable character, 
and imploring her to return with Hortense, thus to re- 
unite the divided and sorrow-stricken household. It was 
indeed a gratification to Josephine to receive from her 
husband the acknowledgment that she had never ceased 
to deserve his confidence.. The thought of again 
pressing Eugene to her bosom filled a mother's heart 
with rapture. Still, the griefs which had weighed 
upon her were so heavy, that she confessed to her 
friends that, were it not for the love which she 
bore Eugene, she would greatly prefer to spend the 
remnant of her days upon her f^ivorite island. Her 
friends did every thing in their power to dissuade 



1786] ARREST 47 

her from leaving Martinique. But a mother's un- 
dying love triumphed, and again she embarked for 
France. 

In subsequent years, when surrounded by all the 
splendors of royalty, she related to some of the ladies 
of her court, with that unaffected simplicity which 
ever marked her character, the following incident, 
which occurred during this voyage. The ladies were 
admiring some brilliant jewels which were spread out 
before them. Josephine said to them, "My young 
friends, believe me, splendor does not constitute 
happiness. I at one time received greater enjoyment 
from the gift of a pair of old shoes than all these 
diamonds have ever afforded me." The curiosity of 
her auditors was, of course, greatly excited, and they 
entreated her to explain her meaning. 

"Yes, young ladies," Josephine continued, "of all 
the presents I ever received, the one which gave me 
the greatest pleasure was a pair of old shoes, and 
those, too, of coarse leather. When I last returned 
to France from Martinique, having separated from my 
first husband, I was far from rich. The passage- 
money exhausted my resources, and it was not with- 
out difficulty that I obtained the indispensable requisites 
for our voyage. Hortense, obliging and lively per- 
forming with much agility the dances of the negroes, 
and singing their songs with surprising correctness, 
greatly amused the sailors, who, from being her con- 



48 JOSEPHINE [1786 

stant play-fellows, had become her favorite society. 
An old sailor became particularly attached to the 
child, and she doted upon the old man. What with 
running, leaping, and walking, my daughter's slight 
shoes were fairly worn out. Knowing that she had 
not another pair, and fearing 1 would forbid her go- 
ing upon deck, should this defect in her attire be 
discovered, Hortense carefully concealed the disaster. 
One day I experienced the distress of seeing her re- 
turn from the deck leaving every foot-mark in blood. 
When examining how matters stood, I found her 
shoes literally in tatters, and her feet dreadfully torn 
by a nail. We were as yet not more than half way 
across the ocean, and it seemed impossible to pro- 
cure another pair of shoes. I felt quite overcome at 
the idea of the sorrow my poor Hortense would 
suffer, as also at the danger to which her health 
might be exposed by confinement in my miserable 
little cabin. At this moment our good friend, the 
old sailor, entered and inquired the cause of our dis- 
tress. Hortense, sobbing all the while, eagerly in- 
formed him that she could no more go upon deck, 
for her shoes were worn out, and mamma had no 
others to give her. 'Nonsense,' said the worthy sea- 
man, 'is that all? I have an old pair somewhere in 
my chest; I will go and seek them. You, madame, 
can cut them to shape, and I will splice them up as 
well as need be.' Without waiting for a reply, away 



1786] ARREST 49 

hastened the kind sailor in search of his old shoes; 
these he soon after brought to us with a triumphant 
air, and they were received by Hortense with dem- 
onstrations of the most lively joy. We set to work 
with all zeal, and before the day closed my daughter 
could resume her delightful duties of supplying their 
evening's diversion to the crew. I again repeat, 
never was present received with greater thankfulness. 
It has since often been matter of self-reproach that I 
did not particularly inquire into the name and history 
of our benefactor. It would have been gratifying for 
me to have done something for him when afterward 
means were in my power." 

Poor Hortense! most wonderful were the vicissi- 
tudes of her checkered and joyless life. We here 
meet her, almost an inf^mt, in poverty and obscurity. 
The mother and child arrive in Paris on the morning 
of that Reign of Terror, the story of which has made 
the ear of humanity to tingle. Hortense is deprived 
of both her parents, and is left in friendlessness and 
beggary in the streets of Paris. A charitable neigh- 
bor cherished and fed her. Her mother is liberated, 
and married to Napoleon; and Hortense, as daughter 
of the emperor, is surrounded with dazzling splendor, 
such as earth has seldom witnessed. We now meet 
Hortense, radiant in youthful beauty, one of the: most 
admired and courted in the midst of the glittering 
throng, which, like a fairy vision, dazzles all eyes in 

M,ofH.-5-4 



59 JOSEPHINE [1786 

the gorgeous apartments of Versailles and St. Cloud. 
Her person is adorned with the most costly fabrics 
and the most briUiant gems which Europe can afford. 
The nobles and princes of the proudest courts vie 
with each other for the honor of her hand. She is 
led to her sumptuous bridals by Louis Bonaparte, 
brother of the emperor; becomes the spouse of a king, 
and takes her seat upon the throne of Holland. But 
in the midst of all this external splendor she is wretched 
at heart. Not one congenial feeling unites her with 
the companion to whom she is bound. Louis, weary 
of regal pomp and constraint, abdicates the throne, 
and Hortense becomes unendurably weary of her pen- 
sive and unambitious spouse. They agree to separate; 
each to journey along, unattended by the other, the 
remainder of life's pilgrimage. Hortense seeks a joy- 
less refuge in a secluded castle, in one of the most 
retired valleys of Switzerland. The tornado of counter- 
revolution sweeps over Europe, and all her exalted 
friends and towering hopes are prostrated in the dust. 
Lingering years of disappointment and sadness pass 
over her, and old age, with its infirmities, places her 
upon a dying bed. One only child, Louis Napoleon, 
since President of the French Republic, the victim of 
corroding ambition and ceaselessly-gnawing discon- 
tent, stands at her bed-side to close her eyes, and to 
follow her, a solitary and lonely rhourner, to the 
grave. The dream of life has passed. The shadow 



1787] ARREST 51 

has vanished away. Who can fathom the mystery of 
the creation of such a drama? 

Josephine arrived in France. She was received 
most cordially by her husband. Sorrowful experience 
had taught him the value of a home, and the worth 
of a pure and a sanctified love. Josephine again 
folded her idolized Eugene in her arms, and the an- 
guish of past years was forgotten in the blissful en- 
joyments of a reunited family. These bright and 
happy days were, however, soon again clouded. The 
French Revolution was now in full career. The king 
and queen were in prison. All law was prostrate. 
M. Beauharnais, at the commencement of the Revolu- 
tion, had most cordially espoused the cause of popular 
liberty. He stood by the side of La Fayette a com- 
panion and a supporter. His commanding character 
gave him great influence. He was elected a deputy 
to the Constituent Assembly, and took an active part 
in its proceedings. Upon the dissolution of this 
Assembly, or States-General, as it was also called, as 
by vote none of its members were immediately re- 
eligible, he retired again to the army; but when the 
second or Legislative Assembly was dissolved and the 
National Convention was formed, he was returned as 
a member, and at two successive sessions was elected 
its president. 

The people, having obtained an entire victory over 
monarchy and aristocracy, beheaded the king and 



52 JOSEPHINE [1789 

queen, and drove the nobles from the realm. France 
was now divided into two great parties. The Jaco- 
bins were so called from an old cloister in which they 
at first held their meetings. All of the lowest, most 
vicious, and the reckless of the nation belonged to 
this party. They seemed disposed to overthrow all 
law, human and divine. Marat, Danton, and Robes- 
pierre were the blood-stained leaders of this wild and 
furious faction. The Girondists, their opponents, were 
so called from the department of the Gironde, from 
which most of the leaders of this party came. They 
wished for a republic like that of the United States, 
where there should be the protection of life, and 
property, and liberty, with healthy laws sacredly 
enforced. 

The conflict between the two parties was long 
and terrible. The Jacobins gained the victory, and 
the Girondists were led to the guillotine. M. Beau- 
harnais was an active member of the Girondist party, 
of which Madame Roland was the soul, and he per- 
ished with them. Many of the Girondists sought 
safety in concealment and retreat. M. Beauharnais, 
conscious of his political integrity, proudly refused to 
save his life by turning his back upon his foes. 

One morning Josephine was sitting in her parlor, 
in a state of great anxiety in reference to the fearful 
commotion of the times, when a servant announced 
that some one wished to speak to her. A young 



1784] ARREST S3 

man of very gentle and prepossessing appearance was 
introduced, with a bag in his hand, in which were 
several pairs of shoes. 

"Citizen," said the man to Josephine, "I under- 
stand that you want socks of plum gray." 

Josephine looked up in surprise, hardly compre- 
hending his meaning, when he approached nearer to 
her, and in an under tone, whispered, "I have some- 
thing to impart to you, madame." 

" Explain yourself," she eagerly repHed, much 
alarmed; "my servant is faithful." 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "my life is at stake in this 
matter." 

"Go Victorine," said Josephine to her servant, 
"and call my husband." 

As soon as they were alone, the young man said, 
"There is not a moment to lose if you would save 
M. Beauharnais. The Revolutionary Committee last 
night passed a resolution to have him arrested, and 
at this very moment the warrant is making out." 

"How know you this?" she demanded, trembling 
violently. 

"I am one of the committee," was the reply, 
"and, being a shoemaker, I thought these shoes 
would afford me a reasonable pretext for advertising 
you, madame." 

At this moment M. Beauharnais entered the room, 
and Josephine, weeping, threw herself into his arms. 



54 JOSEPHINE [1786 

"You see my husband," she said to the shoe- 
maker. 

"I have the honor of knowing him," was the re- 
ply. 

M. Beauharnais wished to reward the young man 
on the spot for his magnanimous and perilous deed 
of kindness. The offer was respectfully but decisively 
declined. To the earnest entreaties of Josephine and 
the young man that he should immediately secure his 
safety by his flight or concealment, he replied, 

"I will never flee; with what can they charge 
me ? I love liberty. I have borne arms for the Revo- 
lution." 

"But you are a noble," the young man rejoined, 
"and that, in the eye of the Revolutionists, is a crime 
■ — an unpardonable crime. And, moreover, they ac- 
cuse you of having been a member of the Constitu- 
tional Assembly." 

"That," said M. Beauharnais, "is my most honor- 
able title to glory. Who would not be proud of 
having proclaimed the rights of the nation, the fall of 
despotism, and the reign of laws ? " 

"What laws!" exclaimed Josephine. "It is in 
blood they are written." 

"Madame," exclaimed the philanthropic young 
Jacobin, with a tone of severity, "when the tree of 
liberty is planted in an unfriendly soil, it must be 
watered with the blood of its enemies." Then, turn^ 



1786] ARREST 55 

ing to M. Beauharnais, he said, "Within an hour it 
will no longer be possible to escape. I wished to 
save you, because I believe you innocent. Such was 
my duty to humanity. But if I am commanded to 
arrest you — pardon me — I shall do my duty; and 
you will acknowledge the patriot." 

The young shoemaker withdrew, and Josephine in 
vain entreated her husband to attempt his escape. 
"Whither shall I flee.?" he answered. "Is there a 
vault, a garret, a hiding-place into which the eye of 
the tyrant Robespierre does not penetrate? We must 
yield. If I am condemned, how can I escape ? If I 
am not condemned, I have nothing to fear." 

About two hours elapsed when three members of 
the Revolutionary Committee, accompanied by a band 
of armed men, broke into the house. The young 
shoemaker was one of this committee, and with firm- 
ness, but with much urbanity, he arrested M. Beau- 
harnais. Josephine, as her husband was led to prison, 
was left in her desolated home. And she found her- 
self indeed deserted and alone. No one could then 
manifest any sympathy with the proscribed without 
perihng life. Josephine's friends, one by one, all 
abandoned her. The young shoemaker alone, who 
had arrested her husband, continued secretly to call 
with words of sympathy. 

Josephine made great exertions to obtain the re- 
lease of her husband, and was also unwearied in her 



S6 JOSEPHINE [1790 

benefactions to multitudes around her who, in those 
days of lawlessness and of anguish, were deprived of 
property, of friends, and of home. The only solace 
she found in her own grief was in ministering to the 
consolation of others. Josephine, from the kindest of 
motives, but very injudiciously, deceived her children 
in reference to their father's arrest, and led them to 
suppose that he was absent from home in conse- 
quence of ill health. When at last she obtained per- 
mission to visit, with her children, her husband in 
prison, they detected the deceit. After returning 
from the prison after their first interview, Hortense 
remarked to her mother that she thought her father's 
apartment very small, and the patients very numerous. 
She appeared for a time very thoughtful, and then 
inquired of Eugene, with an anxious expression of 
countenance, 

"Do you beheve that papa is ill? If he is, it cer- 
tainly is not the sickness which the doctors cure." 

"What do you mean, my dear child?" asked Jo- 
sephine. "Can you suppose that papa and I would 
contrive between us to deceive you?" 

"Pardon me, mamma, but I do think so." 

"Why, sister," exclaimed Eugene, "how can you 
say so?" 

"Good parents," she replied, "are unquestionably 
permitted to deceive their children when they wish 
to spare them uneasiness. Is it not so, mamma?" 



i79o] ARREST 57 

Josephine was not a little embarrassed by this de- 
tection, and was compelled to acknowledge that which 
it was no longer possible to conceal. 

In the interview which M. Beauharnais held with 
his wife and his children, he spoke with some free- 
dom to his children of the injustice of his imprison- 
ment. This sealed his doom. Listeners, who were 
placed in an adjoining room to note down his words, 
reported the conversation, and magnified it into a con- 
spiracy for the overthrow of the republic. M. Beau- 
harnais was immediately placed in close confinement. 
Josephine herself was arrested and plunged into 
prison, and even the terrified children were rigidly 
examined by a brutal committee, who, by promises 
and by threats, did what they could to extort from 
them some confession which would lead to the con- 
viction of their parents. 

Josephine, the morning of her arrest, received an 
anonymous letter, warning her of her danger. It was 
at an early hour, and her children were asleep in their 
beds. But how could she escape? Where could she 
go? Should she leave her children behind her — a 
mother abandon her children! Should she take them 
with her, and thus prevent the possibility of eluding 
arrest ? Would not her attempt at flight be construed 
into a confession of guilt, and thus compromise the 
safety of her husband ? While distracted with these 
thoughts, she heard a loud knocking and clamor at 



58 JOSEPHINE - [1793 

the outer door of the house. She understood too well 
the significance of those sounds. With a great effort 
to retain a tranquil spirit, she passed into the room 
where her children were sleeping. As she fixed her 
eyes upon them, so sweetly lost in slumber, and 
thought of the utter abandonment to which they were 
doomed, her heart throbbed with anguish, and tears, 
of such bitterness as are seldom shed upon earth, 
filled her eyes. She bent over her daughter, and im- 
printed a mother's farewell kiss upon her forehead. 
The affectionate child though asleep, clasped her arms 
around her mother's neck, and, speaking the thoughts 
of the dream passing through her mind, said, "Come 
to bed. Fear nothing. They shall not take you away 
-this night. I have prayed to God for you." 

The tumult in the outer hall continually increasing, 
Josephine, fearful of awaking Hortense and Eugene, 
cast a last lingering look of love upon them, and, 
withdrawing from the chamber, closed the door and 
entered her parlor. There she found a band of armed 
men, headed by the brutal wretch who had so unfeel- 
ingly examined her children. The soldiers were hard- 
ened against every appeal of humanity, and performed 
their unfeehng office without any emotion, save that 
of hatred for one whom they deemed to be an aristo- 
crat. They seized Josephine rudely, and took posses- 
sion of all the property in the house in the name of 
the Republic. They dragged their victim to the Con- 



1793] ARREST 59 

vent of the Carmelites, and she was immured in that 
prison, where, but a few months before, more than 
eight thousand had been massacred by the mob of 
Paris. Even the blackest annals of religious fanaticism 
can record no outrages more horrible that those which 
rampant infidelity perpetrated in these days of its tem- 
porary triumphs. 

When Eugene and Hortense awoke, they found 
themselves indeed alone in the wide world. They 
were informed by a servant of the arrest and the im- 
prisonment of their mother. The times had long been 
so troubled, and the children were so familiar with 
the recital of such scenes of violence, that they were 
prepared to meet these fearful perplexities with no 
little degree of discretion. After a few tears, they 
tried to summon resolution to act worthily of their 
father and mother. Hortense, with that energy of 
character which she manifested through her whole life, 
advised that they should go to the Luxembourg, where 
their father was confined, and demand admission to 
share his imprisonment. Eugene, with that caution 
which characterized him when one of the leaders in 
the army of Napoleon, and when viceroy of Italy, ap- 
prehensive lest thus they might in some way com- 
promise the safety of their father, recalled to mind an 
aged great-aunt, who was residing in much retire- 
ment in the vicinity of Versailles, and suggested the 
propriety of seeking a refuge with her. An humble 



6o JOSEPHINE [1793 

female friend conducted the children to Versailles, 
where they were most kindly received. 

When the gloom of the ensuing night darkened 
the city, M. Beauharnais in his cheerless cell, and 
Josephine in her prison still stained with the blood of 
massacre, wept over the desolation of their home and 
their hopes. They knew not the fate of their chil- 
dren, and their minds were oppressed with the most 
gloomy forebodings. On the ensuing day, Josephine's 
heart was cheered with the tidings of their safety. 
Such was the second terrific storm which Josephine 
encountered on life's dark waters. 




CHAPTER IV. 

Scenes in Prison. 

Convent of the Carmelites. — Quality of the prisoners. — Cheerfulness of Joseph- 
ine. — Reading the daily journal. — Scenes from the prison windows.— 
Anecdote of Hortense. — Letter from Josephine to Hortense. — Mitigation 
of severity. — Josephine appeals to the committee. — She is summoned to 
trial. - The unexpected interview. — Feeling manifested by Beauharnais. 
— Trial of M. Beauharnais and Josephine. — Hopes cherished. — Beau- 
harnais's last letter to Josephine. — Brutality of the executioners. — Re- 
moval of the guillotine. — Execution of M. Beauharnais. — Josephine 
becomes informed thereof. — Her grief. — Her despair. — Preparations for 
the execution of Josephine. — She becomes cheerful. — Credulity of Jo- 
sephine. — The unexpected deliverance. — A miraculous change. — Deliv- 
erance to the captives. 

THE Convent of the Carmelites, in whichi Joseph- 
ine was imprisoned, had acquired a fearful 
celebrity during the Reign of Terror. It was 
a vast and gloomy pile, so capacious in its halls, its 
chapel, its cells, and its subterranean dungeons, that 
at one time nearly ten thousand prisoners were im- 
mured within its frowning walls. In every part of 
the building the floors were still deeply stained with 
the blood of the recent massacres. The infuriated 
men and women, intoxicated with rum and rage, who 
had broken into the prison, dragged multitudes of 
their victims, many of whom were priests, into the 
chape), that they might, in derision of religion, pon- 



62 JOSEPHINE [1794 

iard them before the altar. About three hundred 
thousand innocent victims of the Revolution now 
crowded the prisons of France. These unhappy cap- 
tives, awaiting the hour of their execution, were not 
the ignorant, the debased, the degraded, but the no- 
blest, the purest, the most refined of the citizens of 
the republic. Josephine was placed in the chapel of 
the convent, where she found one hundred and sixty 
men and women as the sharers of her captivity. 

The natural buoyancy of her disposition led her 
to take as cheerful a view as possible of the calamity 
in which the family was involved. Being confident 
that no serious charge could be brought against her 
husband, she clung to the hope that they both would 
soon be liberated, and that happy days were again to 
dawn upon her reunited household. She wrote cheer- 
ing letters to her husband and to her children. Her 
smiling countenance and words of kindness animated 
with new courage the grief-stricken and the despair- 
ing who surrounded her. She immediately became a 
universal favorite with the inmates of the prison. 
Her instinctive tact enabled her to approach all ac- 
ceptably, whatever their rank or character. She soon 
became prominent in influence among the prisoners, 
and reigned there, as every where else, over the 
hearts of willing subjects. Her composure, her cheer^t 
fulness, her clear and melodious voice, caused her to 
be selected to read, each day, to the ladies, the jour- 



1794] SCENES IN PRISON 63 

nal of the preceding day. From their windows they 
could see, each morning, the carts bearing through 
the streets their burden of unhappy victims who were 
to perish on the scaffold. Not unfrequently a wife 
would catch a glimpse of her husband, or a mother 
of her son, borne past the grated windows in the 
cart of the condemned. Who can tell the fear and 
anguish with which the catalogue of the guillotined 
was read, when each trembling heart apprehended 
that the next word might announce that some loved 
one had perished ? Not unfrequently a piercing shriek, 
and a fainting form falling lifeless upon the floor, re- 
vealed upon whose heart the blow had fallen. 

Hortense, impetuous and unreflecting, was so im- 
patient to see her mother, that one morning she 
secretly left her aunt's house, and, in a market cart, 
traveled thirty miles to Paris. She found her mother's 
maid, Victorine, at the family mansion, where all the 
property was sealed up by the revolutionary function- 
aries. After making unavailing efforts to obtain an 
interview with her parents, she returned the next day 
to Fontainebleau. Josephine was informed of this 
imprudent act of ardent affection, and wrote to her 
child the following admirable letter: 

"I should be entirely satisfied with the good heart 
of my Hortense were I not displeased with her bad 
head. How is it, my daughter, that, without per- 
mission from your aunt, you have come to Paris? 



$4 JOSEPHINE [1794 

This was very wrong! But it was to see me, you 
will say. You ought to be aware that no one can 
see me without an order, to obtain which requires 
both means and precautions. And, besides, you got 
upon M. Dorcet's cart, at the risk of incommoding 
him and retarding the conveyance of his merchandise. 
In all this you have been very inconsiderate. My 
child! observe, it is not sufficient to do good; you 
must also do good properly. At your age, the first of 
all virtues is confidence and docility toward your rela- 
tions. I am therefore obliged to tell you that 1 prefer 
your tranquil attachment to your misplaced warmth. 
This, however, does not prevent me from embracing 
you, but less tenderly than 1 shall do When I learn 
that you have returned to your aunt." 

There was at this time, for some unknown reason, 
a little mitigation in the severity with which the 
prisoners were treated, and Josephine was very san- 
guine in the belief that the hour of their release was 
at hand. Emboldened by this hope, she wrote a 
very earnest appeal to the Committee of Public 
Safety, before whom the accusations against M. Beau- 
harnais would be brought. The sincerity and frank- 
ness of the eloquent address so touched the feelings 
of the president of the committee, that he resolved 
to secure for Josephine and her husband the indul- 
gence of an interview. The greatest caution was 
necessary in doing this, for he periled his own life 



1794] SCENES IN PRISON 6$ 

by the manifestation of any sympathy for the ac- 
cused. 

The only way in which he could accomplish his 
benevolent project was to have them both brought 
together for trial. Neither of them knew of this de- 
sign. One morning Josephine, while dreaming of 
liberty and of her children, was startled by the unex- 
pected summons to appear before the Revolutionary 
tribunal. She knew that justice had no voice which 
could be heard before that merciless and sanguinary 
court. She knew that the mockery of a trial was but 
the precursor of the sentence, which was immediately 
followed by the execution. From her high hopes 
this summons caused a fearful fall. Thoughts of her 
husband and her children rushed in upon her over- 
flowing heart, and the tenderness of the woman for a 
few moments triumphed over the heroine. Soon, 
however, regaining in some degree her composure, 
she prepared herself, with as much calmness as possi- 
ble, to meet her doom. She was led from her prison 
to the hall where the blood-stained tribunal held its 
session, and, with many others, was placed in an 
ante-room, to await her turn for an examination of a 
few minutes, upon the issues of which life or death 
was suspended. While Josephine was sitting here, 
in the anguish of suspense, an opposite door was 
opened, and some armed soldiers led in a group of 
victims from another prison. As Josephine's eye va- 

M.ofH.— 5-5 



66 JOSEPHINE [1794 

cantly wandered over their features, she was startled 
by the entrance of one whose wan and haggard fea- 
tures strikingly reminded her of her husband. She 
looked again, their eyes met, and husband and wife 
were instantly locked in each other's embrace. At 
this interview, the stoicism of M. Beauharnais was 
entirely subdued — the thoughts of the past, of his 
unworthiness, of the faithful and generous love of 
Josephine, rushed in a resistless flood upon his soul. 
He leaned his aching head upon the forgiving bosom 
of Josephine, and surrendered himself to love, and 
penitence, and tears. 

This brief and painful interview was their last. 
They never met again. They were allowed but a 
few moments together ere the officers came and 
dragged M. Beauharnais before the judges. His exam- 
ination lasted but a few minutes, when he was re- 
manded back to prison. Nothing was proved against 
him. No serious accusation even was laid to his 
charge. But he was a noble. He had descended from 
illustrious ancestors, and therefore, as an aristocrat, he 
was doomed to die. Josephine was also conducted 
into the presence of this sanguinary tribunal. She 
was the wife of a nobleman. She was the friend of 
Maria Antoinette. She had even received distin- 
guished attentions at court. These crimes consigned 
her also to the guillotine. Josephine was conducted 
back to her prison, unconscious of the sentence 



1794] SCENES IN PRISON 67 

which had been pronounced against her husband 
and herself. She even cherished the sanguine hope 
that they would soon be liberated, for she could not 
think it possible that they could be doomed to death 
without even the accusation of crime. 

Each evening there was brought into the prison a 
list of the names of those who were to be led to the 
guillotine on the ensuing morning. A few days after 
the trial, on the evening of the 24th of July, 1794, 
M. Beauharnais found his name with the proscribed 
who were to be led to the scaffold with the light of 
the next day. Love for his wife and his children 
rendered life too precious to him to be surrendered 
without anguish. But sorrow had subdued his heart, 
and led him with prayerfulness to look to God for 
strength to meet the trial. The native dignity of his 
character also nerved him to meet his fate with 
fortitude. 

He sat down calmly in his cell, and wrote a long, 
affectionate, and touching letter to his wife. He 
assured her of his most heartfelt appreciation of the 
purity and nobleness of her character, and of her 
priceless worth as a wife and a mother. He thanked 
her again and again for the generous spirit with which 
she forgave his offenses, when, weary and contrite, 
he returned from his guilty wanderings, and anew 
sought her love. He implored her to cherish in the 
hearts of his children the memory of their father, that, 



68 JOSEPHINE [1794 

though dead, he might still live in their affections. 
While he was writing, the executioners came in to 
cut off his long hair, that the ax might do its work 
unimpeded. Picking up a small lock from the floor, 
he wished to transmit it to his wife as his last legacy. 
The brutal executioners forbade him the privilege. 
He, however, succeeded in purchasing from them a 
few hairs, which he inclosed in his letter, and which 
she subsequently received. 

In the early dawn of the morning, the cart of the 
condemned was at the prison door. The Parisians 
were beginning to be weary of the abundant flow of 
blood, and Robespierre had therefore caused the guil- 
lotine to be removed from the Place de la Revolution 
to an obscure spot in the Faubourg St. Antoine. A 
large number of victims were doomed to die that 
morning. The carts, as they rolled along the pave- 
ments, groaned with their burdens, and the persons 
in the streets looked on in sullen silence. M. Beau- 
harnais, with firmness, ascended the scaffold. The 
slide of the guillotine fell, and the brief drama of his 
stormy life was ended. 

While the mutilated form of M, Beauharnais was 
borne to an ignoble burial, Josephine, entirely uncon- 
scious of the calamity which had befallen her, was 
cheering her heart with the hope of a. speedy union 
with her husband and her children in their own loved 
home. The morning after the execution, the daily 



1794] SCENES IN PRISON 69 

journal, containing the names of tliose who had per- 
ished on the preceding day, was brought, as usual, 
to the prison. Some of the ladies in the prison had 
received the intimation that M. Beauharnais had fallen. 
They watched, therefore, the arrival of the journal, 
and, finding their fears established, they tried, for a 
time, to conceal the dreadful intelligence from the un- 
conscious widow. But Josephine was eagerly inquir- 
ing for the paper, and at last obtaining it, she ran 
her eye hastily over the record of executions, and 
found the name of her husband in the fatal list. She 
fell senseless upon the floor. For a long time she re- 
mained in a swoon. When consciousness returned, 
and with it a sense of the misery into which she 
was plunged, in the delirium of her anguish she ex- 
claimed, "Oh God! let me die! let me die! There is 
no peace for me but in the grave." 

Her friends gathered around her. They implored 
her to think of her children, and for their sake to 
prize a life she could no longer prize for her own. 
The poignancy of her grief gradually subsided into 
the calm of despair. A sleepless night lingered slowly 
away. The darkness and the gloom of a prison set- 
tled down upon her soul. The morning dawned 
drearily. A band of rough and merciless agents from 
the Revolutionary Assembly came to her with the 
almost welcome intelligence that in two days she 
was to be led to the Conciergerie, and from thence 



70 JOSEPHINE [1794 

to her execution. These tidings would have been 
joyful to Josephine were it not for her children. A 
mother's love clung to the orphans, and it was with 
pain inexpressible that she thought of leaving them 
alone in this tempestuous world — a world made so 
stormy, so woeful, by man's inhumanity to his fellow- 
man. 

The day preceding the one assigned for her ex- 
ecution arrived. The numerous friends of Josephine 
in the prison hung around her with tears. The 
heartless jailer came and took away her mattress, 
saying, with a sneer, that she would need it no 
longer, as her head was soon to repose upon the soft 
pillow of the guillotine. It is reported that, as the 
hour of execution drew nearer, Josephine became not 
only perfectly calm, but even cheerful in spirit. She 
looked affectionately upon the weeping group gathered 
around her, and, recalling at the moment the predic- 
tion of the aged negress, gently smiling, said, "We 
have no cause for alarm, my friends; I am not to be 
executed. It is written in the decrees of Fate that I 
am yet to be Queen of France." Some of her friends 
thought that the suppressed anguish of her heart had 
driven her to delirium, and they wept more bitterly. 
But one of the ladies, Madame d'Aiguillon, was a lit- 
tle irritated at pleasantry which she deemed so ill 
timed. With something like resentment, she asked, 
"Why, then, madame, do you not appoint your 



1794] SCENES IN PRISON 71 

household?" "Ah! that is true," Josephine replied. 
*' I had forgotten. Well, you, my dear, shall be my 
maid of honor. I promise you the situation." They 
both lived to witness the strange fulfillment of this 
promise. Josephine, however, who, from the circum- 
stances of her early life, was inclined to credulity, 
afterward declared that at the time her mind reposed 
in the full confidence that in some way her life would 
be saved, and that the prediction of the negress 
would be virtually realized. 

The shades of night settled down around the 
gloomy convent, enveloping in their folds the despair- 
ing hearts which thronged this abode of woe. Sud- 
denly the most exultant shout of joy burst from every 
lip, and echoed along through corridors, and dun- 
geons, and grated cells. There was weeping and 
fainting for rapture inexpressible. The prisoners 
leaped into each other's arms, and, frantic with hap- 
piness, clung together in that long and heartfelt em- 
brace which none can appreciate but those who have 
been companions in woe. Into the blackness of their 
midnight there had suddenly burst the blaze of noon- 
day. What caused this apparently miraculous change.? 
The iron-hearted jailer had passed along, announcing, 
in coarsest phrase, that Robespierre was guillotined. 
There had been a new revolution. The tyrant had 
fallen. The prisons which he had filled with victims 
were to be emptied of their captives. 



CHAPTER V. 

The Release from Prison. • 

Robespierre.— M. Tallien.— Madame de Fontenay .— A. lover's device.— Execu- 
tion of Robespierre decreed. — He is guillotined. — Singular mode of con- 
veying information. — Pantomimic representation of Robespierre's fall. — 
Universal joy caused by the death ot the tyrant.— Josephine released from 
captivity.— Gloomy prospect. — Heartlessness of Marat. — Eugene ap- 
prenticed to an artisan. — Kindness of Josephine's friends. — She recovers 
her property.— A domestic scene.— A new order of knighthood.— The 
Order of Filial Love. — Inauguration. — Decoration of the room. — The 
oath. — New organization of social society. — The " Ball of the Victims." — 
Fashionable style of hair-dressing. — A new insurrection — The little 
Corsican.— Napoleon's authority established.— The Tuileries fortified. — 
Advance of the insurgents. — Napoleon opens his batteries. — Defeat of 
the insurgents.— Rising fame of Napoleon.— His first interview with 
Josephine.— His " seal."— Napoleon disarms the populace.— The sword 
of Beauharnais.-- Napoleon regards Josephine with interest. —Her opinion 
of him.— Letter to a friend.— Foresight of Napoleon.— His confidence. 
— His ambition unbounded.— His moral principles.— Napoleon's estimate 
of the female sex.— Strength of his attachment. 

THE overthrow of Robespierre, and the consequent 
escape of Josephine from the doom impending 
over her, was in the following manner most 
strangely accomplished. The tyranny of Robespierre 
had become nearly insupportable. Conspiracies were 
beginning to be formed to attempt his overthrow. A 
lady of great beauty and celebrity, Madame de 
Fontenay, was imprisoned with Josephine. M. Tallien, 
a man of much influence with a new party then 
rising into power, had conceived a strong attachment 
(72) 



1794] RELEASE FROM PRISON 73 

for this lady, and, though he could not safely indulge 
himself in interviews with her in prison, he was in 
the habit of coming daily to the Convent of the 
Carmelites that he might have the satisfaction of catch- 
ing a glimpse of the one he loved through her grated 
window. 

Madame de Fontenay had received secret intelli- 
gence that she was soon to be led before the Con- 
vention for trial. This she knew to be but the prelude 
of her execution. That evening M. Tallien appeared 
as usual before the guarded casement of the Carmelites. 
Madame de Fontenay and Josephine, arm in arm, 
leaned against the bars of the window, as if to breathe 
the fresh evening air, and made a sign to arrest M. 
Tallien's particular attention. They then dropped from 
the window a piece of cabbage-leaf, in which Madame 
de Fontenay had inclosed the following note: 

" My trial is decreed — the result is certain. If 
you love me as you say, urge every means to save 
France and me." 

With intense interest, they watched the motions 
of M. Tallien until they saw him take the cabbage- 
leaf from the ground. Roused by the billet to the 
consciousness of the necessity of immediate action, he 
proceeded to the Convention, and, with the im- 
passioned energy which love for Madame de Fonte- 
nay and hatred of Robespierre inspired, made an 
energetic and fearless assault upon the tyrant. Robes- 



74 JOSEPHINE [1794 

pierre, pale and trembling, saw that his hour had 
come. A decree of accusation was preferred against 
him, and the head of the merciless despot fell upon 
that guillotine where he had already caused so many 
thousands to perish. The day before Josephine was 
to have been executed, he was led, mangled and 
bleeding to the scaffold. He had attempted to com- 
mit suicide. The ball missed its aim, but shattered 
his jaw. The wretched man ascended the ladder, 
and stood upon the platform of the guillotine. The 
executioners tore the bandage from his mangled face, 
that the linen might not impede the blow of the ax. 
Their rude treatment of the inflamed wound extorted 
a cry of agony, which thrilled upon the ear of the 
assembled crowd, and produced a silence as of the 
grave. The next moment the slide fell, and the mu- 
tilated head was severed from the body. Then the 
very heavens seemed rent by one long, loud, exult- 
ing shout, which proclaimed that Robespierre was no 
more I 

The death of Robespierre arrested the ax which 
was just about to Aill upon the head of Josephine. 
The first intimation of his overthrow was communi- 
cated to her in the following singular manner, Ma- 
dame d'Aiguillon was weeping bitterly, and sinking 
down with faintness in view of the bloody death to 
which her friend was to be led on the morrow. 
Josephine, whose fortitude had not forsaken her, drew 



1794] RELEASE FROM PRISON 75 

her almost senseless companion to the window, that 
she might be revived by the fresh air. Her attention 
was arrested by a woman of the lower orders in the 
street, who was continually looking up to the win- 
dow, beckoning to Josephine, and making many very 
singular gestures. She seemed to desire to call her 
attention particularly to the robe which she wore, 
holding it up, and pointing to it again and again. 
Josephine, through the iron grating, cried out Robe. 
The woman eagerly gave signs of assent, and imme- 
diately took up a stone, which in French is Pierre, 
Josephine again cried out pierre. The woman ap- 
peared over-joyed on perceiving that her pantomime 
began to be understood. She then put the two 
together, pointing alternately to the one and to the 
other. Josephine cried out Robespierre. The woman 
then began to dance and shout with delight, and 
made signs of cutting off a head. 

This pantomime excited emotions in the bosom 
of Josephine which cannot be described. She hardly 
dared to believe that the tyrant had actually fallen, 
and yet she knew not how else to account for the 
singular conduct of the woman. But a few moments 
elapsed before a great noise was heard in the corri- 
dor of the prison. The turnkey, in loud and fearless 
tones, cried out to his dog, "Get out, you cursed 
brute of a Robespierre!" This emphatic phraseology 
convinced them that the sanguinary monster before 



76 JOSEPHINE [1794 

whom all France had trembled was no longer to be 
feared. In a few moments the glad tidings were re- 
sounding through the prison, and many were in an 
instant raised from the abyss of despair to almost a 
delirium of bliss. Josephine's bed was restored to 
her, and she placed her head upon her pillow that 
night, and sank down to the most calm and delight- 
ful repose. 

No language can describe the transports excited 
throughout all France by the tidings of the fall of 
Robespierre. Three hundred thousand captives were 
then lingering in the prisons of Paris awaiting death. 
As the glittering steel severed the head of the tyrant 
from his body, their prison doors burst open, and 
France was filled with hearts throbbing with ecstasy, 
and with eyes overflowing with tears of rapture. Five 
hundred thousand fugitives were trembling in their 
retreats, apprehensive of arrest. They issued from 
their hiding-places frantic with joy, and every village 
witnessed their tears and embraces. 

The new party which now came into power, with 
Tallien at its head, immediately liberated those who 
had been condemned by their opponents, and the 
prison doors of Josephine were thrown open to her. 
But from the gloom of her cell she returned to a 
world still dark and clouded. Her husband had been 
beheaded, and all his property confiscated. She found 
herself a widow and penniless. Nearly all of her 



1794] RELEASE FROM PRISON 77 

friends had perished in the storms which had swept 
over France. The Reign of Terror had passed away, 
but gaunt famine was staring the nation in the face. 
They were moments of ecstasy when Josephine, again 
free, pressed Eugene and Hortense to her face. But 
the most serious embarrassments immediately crowded 
upon her. Poverty, stern and apparently remediless, 
was her lot. She had no friends upon whom she 
had any right to call for aid. There was no employ- 
ment open before her by which she could obtain her 
subsistence; and it appeared that she and her children 
were to be reduced to absolute beggary. These 
were among the darkest hours of her earthly career. 
It was from this abyss of obscurity and want that 
she was to be raised to a position of splendor and of 
power such as the wildest dreams of earthly ambi- 
tion could hardly have conceived. 

Though Robespierre was dead, the strife of ran- 
corous parties raged with unabated violence, and blood 
flowed freely. The reign of the mob still continued, 
and it was a mark of patriotism demanded by the 
clamors of haggard want and degradation to persecute 
all of noble blood. Young girls from the boarding- 
schools, and boys just emerging from the period of 
childhood, were beheaded by the guillotine. "We 
must exterminate," said Marat, "all the whelps of 
aristocracy." Josephine trembled for her children. 
Poverty, and the desire of concealing Eugene among 



78 JOSEPHINE [1795 

the mass of the people, induced her to apprentice her 
son to a house-carpenter. For several months Eugene 
cheerfully and laboriously toiled in this humble oc- 
cupation. But the sentiments he had imbibed from 
both father and mother ennobled him, and every day 
produced new developments of a lofty character, 
which no circumstances could long depress. 

Let such a woman as Josephine, with her cheerful, 
magnanimous, self-sacrificing, and generous spirit, be 
left destitute in any place where human beings are 
congregated, and she will soon inevitably meet with 
those who will feel honored in securing her friendship 
and in offering her a home. Every fireside has a 
welcome for a noble heart. Madame Dumoulin, a 
lady of great elevation of character, whose large fortune 
had by some chance escaped the general wreck, in- 
vited Josephine to her house, and freely supplied her 
wants. Madame Fontenay, also, who was a woman 
of great beauty and accomplishments, soon after her 
liberation was married to M. Tallien, to whom she 
had tossed the note, inclosed in a cabbage-leaf, from 
her prison window. It was this note which had so 
suddenly secured the overthrow of the tyrant, and 
had rescued so many from the guillotine. They both 
became the firm friends of Josephine. Others, also, 
soon became strongly attracted to her by the loveliness 
of her character, and were ambitious to supply all her 
wants. 



1795] RELEASE FROM PRISON 79 

Through M. Tallien, she urged her claim upon the 
National Convention for the restoration of her con- 
fiscated property. After a long and tedious process, 
she succeeded in regaining such a portion of her es- 
tate as to provide her amply with all the comforts of 
life. Again she had her own peaceful home, with 
Eugene and Hortense by her side. Her natural buoy- 
ancy of spirits rose superior to the storms which had 
swept so mercilessly over her, and in the love of her 
idolized children, and surrounded by the sympathies 
of appreciative friends, days of serenity, and even of 
joy, began to shine upon her. 

A domestic scene occurred in the dwelling of 
Josephine on the anniversary of the death of M. 
Beauharnais peculiarly characteristic of the times and 
of the French people. Josephine called Eugene to 
her room, and presented to him a portrait of his 
father. "Carry it to your chamber, my son," she 
said, "and often let it be the object of your contem- 
plations. Above all, let him whose image it presents 
be your constant model. He was the most ami- 
able of men; he would have been the best of 
fathers." 

Eugene was a young man of that enthusiastic 
genius which is the almost invariable accompaniment 
of a noble character. His emotions were deeply ex- 
cited. With the characteristic ardor of his country- 
men, he covered the portrait with kisses, and wept 



8o JOSEPHINE [1795 

freely. Josephine folded her noble boy in her em- 
brace, and they mingled their tears together. 

In the evening, as Josephine was sitting alone in 
her parlor, her son entered, accompanied by six 
young men, his companions, each decorated with a 
copy of the portrait of M. Beauharnais suspended 
from the neck by a black and white ribbon. "You 
see," said Eugene to his mother, "the founders of a 
new order of knighthood. Behold our tutelary saint," 
pointing to the portrait of his father. "And these 
are the first members." He then introduced his 
youthful companions to his mother, 

"Ours" he continued, "is named the Order of 
Filial Love; and, if you would witness the first 
inauguration, pass with these gentlemen into the 
small drawing-room." 

Josephine entered the drawing-room with the 
youthful group, and found it very tastefully orna- 
mented with garlands of ivy, roses, and laurels. In- 
scriptions, taken from the printed discourses or re- 
markable sayings of iM. Beauharnais, were suspended 
upon the walls. Girandoles, with lighted tapers, 
brilliantly illuminated the room. An altar was erected, 
hung with festoons of flowers, and upon this altar 
was placed the full-length portrait of M. Beauharnais. 
Three crowns of white and red roses were suspended 
from the picture-frame, and in front were placed two 
vases with perfumes. 



1795] RELEASE FROM PRISON 8i 

The young gentlemen ranged themselves about 
the altar in perfect silence, and, at a concerted signal, 
eagerly unsheathed the swords which they wore at 
their sides, and, clasping hands, solemnly took the 
oath, " To love their parents, succor each other, and 
to defend their country." At this moment, Eugene, 
unfurling and waving a small banner, with its folds 
shaded the head of his father. "We then embraced 
each other," says Josephine, "mingling tears with 
smiles, and the most amiable disorder succeeded to 
the ceremonial of inauguration." 

The fascination of Josephine's person and address 
drew multitudes of friends around her, and her society 
was ever coveted. As time softened the poignancy 
of her past sorrows, she mingled more and more in 
the social circles of that metropolis where pleasure 
and gayety ever reign. The terrible convulsions of 
the times had thrown the whole fabric of society into 
confusion. Great efforts were now made to revive 
the festivities of former days. Two centers of society 
were naturally established. The first included that in 
which Josephine moved. It was composed of the re- 
mains of the ancient nobility, who had returned to 
Paris with the fragments of their families and their 
shattered fortunes. Rigid economy was necessary to 
keep up any appearance of elegance. But that polish 
of manners which almost invariably descends from an 
illustrious ancestry marked all their intercourse. The 

M.ofH.— 5-6 



82 JOSEPHINE [1795 

humiliations through which the nobles had passed had 
not diminished the exclusiveness of their tastes. The 
other circle was composed of merchants and bankers 
who had acquired opulence in the midst of the con- 
fiscations and storms of revolution. The passion for 
display was prominent in all their assemblies, as is 
necessarily the case with those whose passport to 
distinction is wealth. 

At the theaters and all the places of public festiv- 
ity, there were presented studied memorials of the 
scenes of horror through which all had recently 
passed. One of the most fashionable and brilliant 
assemblies then known in Paris was called The Ball 
of the yictims. No one was admitted to this assem- 
bly who had not lost some near relative by the guil- 
lotine. The most fashionable style of dressing the 
hair was jocosely called "a la guillotine." The hair 
was arranged in the manner in which it had been 
adjusted by the executioner for the unimpeded opera- 
tion of the ax. And thus, with songs, and dances, 
and laughter-moving jokes, they commemorated the 
bloody death of their friends. 

A new insurrection by the populace of Paris was 
at this time planned against the Convention. The ex- 
asperated people were again to march upon the Tui- 
leries. The members were in extreme consternation. 
The mob could bring tens of thousands against them, 
well armed with muskets and heavy artillery. There 



1795] RELEASE FROM PRISON 83 

were but five hundred regular troops with which to 
resist the onset. Menou, the officer in command, 
acknowledged his inability to meet the crisis, and 
surrendered his power to Barras. This general imme- 
diately, as by a sudden thought, exclaimed, "I know 
the man who can defend us! He is a little Corsican, 
who dares do any thing, and is perfectly reckless of 
consequences! " 

The little Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte, the day- 
star of whose fame was just beginning to rise over 
the smouldering ruins of Toulon, was invited to meet 
the Convention. His fragile form was almost femi- 
nine in its proportions, but an eagle eye calmly re- 
posed in his pallid and emaciate countenance. He 
had been severely sick, and the Convention looked 
with amazement a-nd incredulity upon this feeble 
youth, as the one presented to rescue them from their 
impending peril. 

The president fixed his eye upon him doubtingly, 
and said, "Are you willing to undertake our de- 
fense ? " 

"Yes!" was the calm, laconic, and almost indif- 
ferent reply. 

"But are you aware of the magnitude of the un- 
dertaking.?" 

"Fully!" said Napoleon, fixing his piercing eye 
upon the president; "and I am in the habit of ac- 
complishing that which I undertake." 



84 , JOSEPHINE [1795 

From that moment his authority was established. 
Every member of the Convention felt the mysterious 
fascination of his master mind. Barras surrendered 
the whole command Into his hands. He instantly 
called into the city all the national forces which were 
around Paris, and disposed fifty pieces of heavy artil- 
lery, under the command of Murat, so as to rake all 
the avenues to the Convention. His calm and almost 
superhuman energy sought no repose that night. The 
delay of but a few moments would have placed this 
very park of artillery, which secured his victory, in 
the hands of the insurgents. When the morning 
dawned, the Tuileries, as if by magic, had assumed 
the aspect of a fortified camp. The little Corsican 
was silently and calmly awaiting the onset, as secure 
of triumph as if the victory were already achieved. 

But in every quarter of Paris, during the night, the 
insurgents had been mustering their forces, and the 
mutterings of the approaching storm were dismally 
echoed through the streets of the metropolis. Above 
thirty thousand men, all well armed with musketry 
and artillery, in regular military array, and under ex- 
perienced generals, came pouring down upon the 
feeble band which surrounded the Convention. 

Will the little Corsican dare to fire upon the peo- 
ple? Will this pale and slender youth, who had 
hardly yet entered upon the period of manhood, dare 
to deluge the pavements of Paris with the blood of 



1795] RELEASE FROM PRISON 85 

her own citizens? Will he venture upon a conflict 
so unequal, when failure is his certain death ? 

Napoleon, with his colorless cheek, his flashing 
eye, and his air of mysterious melancholy, stood in 
silence, as the gathering thousands crowded down 
upon him. He offered no parley; he uttered not a 
word of warning; he condescended to no threats. 
The insurgents, believing that he would not dare to 
fire upon them, advanced within fifty yards of his 
masked battery, when he opened his columns, and, 
in the roar of artillery shotted to the muzzle, the 
voice of Napoleon was for the first time heard in the 
streets of Paris. The thunder of his tones was pre- 
ceded by the lightning's bolt. The merciless storm 
of grape-shot, sweeping the streets, covered the 
ground with the dead and the dying. No mortal 
could withstand such a conflict. The advancing foe 
wavered for an instant, and then, in the utmost con- 
sternation, took to flight. Napoleon commanded im- 
mediately the most rapid discharge of blank cartridges. 
Peal upon peal, their loud reverberations deafened the 
city, and added wings to the flight of the terror- 
stricken crowd. But a few moments elapsed ere not 
even a straggler could be seen in the deserted streets. 
The little Corsican, pale and calm, stood, with folded 
arms, as unperturbed as if no event of any moment 
had occurred. During the whole day, however, the 
conflict continued in different parts of the city, but 



86 JOSEPHINE [1795 

before nightfall the insurgents were every where en- 
tirely discomfited. 

Paris was now filled with the name of Napoleon. 
Some regarded him as a savior, protecting the Con- 
vention; others considered him a demon, deluging 
the capital with blood. One evening, Josephine was 
visiting at the house of a friend, and sitting by a 
window examining some beautiful violets, when 
Bonaparte was announced. Josephine had never yet 
met him, though, of course, she had heard much of 
one whose rising fame filled the metropolis. 

She says that she trembled violently at the an- 
nouncement of his name. His entrance seemed to 
excite general interest, and all eyes were turned to- 
ward him, though most of the company regarded 
him in silence. He approached Josephine, and the 
subject of the recent conflict in the streets of Paris 
was introduced. 

"It seems to me," said Josephine, "that it is only 
with regret that we should think of the consternation 
you have spread through the capital. It is a fright- 
ful service you have performed." 

"It is very possible," he repHed. "The military 
are only automata, to which the government gives 
such motions as it pleases. They have no duty but 
to obey. Besides, I wished to teach the Parisians a 
little lesson. This is my seal which I have set upon 
France," 



1795] RELEASE FROM PRISON 87 

This he said in such calm, quiet, imperturbable 
tones, so expressive of his perfect confidence in him- 
self, and of his indifference to the opinions of others, 
that Josephine was quite piqued, and replied politely, 
but yet in a manner which indicated her displeasure. 

"These light skirmishes," the young general re- 
joined, "are but the first coruscations of my glory." 

**If you are to acquire glory at such a price," 
Josephine answered, "1 would much rather count you 
among the victims." 

Such was the first interview between Josephine 
and Napoleon. It was merely a casual meeting in an 
evening party between a widow, giaceful and beauti- 
ful, and a young man of boundless ambition. Though 
Josephine was not pleased with Napoleon, he pro- 
duced a very profound impression upon her mind. 
Napoleon, being now in command of the troops in 
Paris, by order of the Convention, executed the very 
unpopular office of disarming the populace. In the 
performance of this order, the sword of M. Beauhar- 
nais was taken. The next day, Eugene, who was 
then a boy twelve years of age, of exceedingly 
prepossessing appearance, presented himself before 
Napoleon, and implored the return of the sword 
which had belonged to his father. Napoleon was 
deeply interested in the frankness and the fervor of 
emotion manifested by the lad, and immediately com- 
plied with his request. Josephine called upon hin\ 



88 JOSEPHINE [1795 

the next day to thank him for his kindness to her 
son. He was at this interview as deeply impressed 
by the fascinations of the mother as he had previously 
been struck by the noble bearing of the child. After 
this they frequently met, and Josephine could not be 
blind to the interest with which she was regarded by 
Napoleon. Situated as he then was, it was social 
elevation to him to be united with Madame de Beau- 
harnais, and her rank, and influence, and troops of 
friends would greatly aid him in his ambitious plans. 
It is also unquestionably true that Napoieon formed a 
very strong attachment for Josephine. Indeed, she 
was the only person whom he ever truly loved. 
That he did love her at times most passionately there 
can be no doubt. 

Josephine, however, had many misgivings respect- 
ing the expediency of the union. She stated to her 
friends that he was the most fascinating man that 
she had ever met; that she admired his courage, the 
quickness of his judgment, the extent of his informa- 
tion. She, however, confessed that she did not really 
love him — that she stood in awe of him. "His 
searching glance," she says, "mysterious and inex- 
plicable, imposes even upon our Directors — judge if 
it may not mtimidate a woman." 

"Being now past the heyday of youth," she 
writes in a letter to a friend, "can I hope long to 
preserve that ardor of attachment which, in the gen- 



1795] RELEASE FROM PRISON 89 

eral, resembles a fit of delirium ? If, after our union, 
he should cease to love me, will he not reproach me 
with what he will have sacrificed for my sake? 
Will he not regret a more brilliant marriage which 
he might have contracted ? What shall I then reply ? 
What shall I do ? I shall weep. Excellent resource! 
you will say. Alas! I know that all this can serve no 
end; but it has ever been thus; tears are the only 
resource left me when this poor heart, so easily 
chilled, has suffered. Write quickly, and do not fear 
to scold me, should you judge that I am wrong. You 
know that whatever comes from your pen will be 
taken in good part. 

"Barras gives assurance that if I marry the general 
he will so contrive as to have him appointed to the 
command of the army of Italy. Yesterday, Bonaparte, 
speaking of this favor, which already excites mur- 
muring among his fellow-soldiers, though it be as 
yet only a promise, said to me, 'Think they, then, I 
have need of their protection to arrive at power? 
Egregious mistake! They will all be but too happy 
one day should I grant them mine. My sword is by 
my side, and with it I will go far.' 

"What say you to this security of success ? Is it 
not a proof of confidence springing from an excess of 
vanity ? A general of brigade protect the heads of 
government ! that, truly, is an event highly probable I 
I know not how it is, but sometimes this wayward- 



90 JOSEPHINE [1795 

ness gains upon me to such, a degree that almost I 
believe possible whatever this singular man may take 
it in his head to attempt; and, with his imagination, 
who can calculate what he will not undertake?" 

It was now winter. The storm of Revolution had 
partially subsided. The times were, however, full of 
agitation and peril. Europe was in arms against 
France. There was no stable government and no re- 
spected laws. The ambitious young general conse- 
crated his days with sleepless energy to his public 
duties, but each evening he devoted to Josephine. 
Napoleon never manifested any taste for those dissi- 
pating pleasures which attract and ruin so many young 
men. He had no moral principles which pronounced 
such indulgences wrong, but the grandeur of his am- 
bition absorbed all his energies. He was even at that 
time, a hard student. He was never more happy than 
when alone with Josephine, engaged in conversation 
or reading. His attachment for Josephine became very 
ardent and passionate. The female character at this 
time, in France, was far from high. Napoleon had but 
little respect for ladies in general. The circumstances 
of his life had led him to form a low estimate of the 
sex. He often said that all the rest of the sex were 
nothing compared with Josephine. He frequently gave 
public breakfasts to his friends, at which Josephine 
universally presided, though other ladies were in- 
vited. 



1795] RELEASE FROM PRISON 91 

In the pleasant mansion of Josephine, Napoleon 
was in the habit of meeting a small circle of select 
friends, who were strongly attached to Josephine, and 
who were able, and for her sake were willing to pro- 
mote his interests. Napoleon was a man of strong 
affections, but of stronger ambition. Josephine was 
entirely satisfied with the singleness and the ardor of 
his love. She sometimes trembled in view of its 
violence. She often remarked to her friends that he 
was incomparably the most fascinating man she had 
ever met. All have equally attested Napoleon's un- 
rivaled powers of pleasing, whenever it suited his 
purpose to make the effort. The winter thus rapidly 
and pleasantly passed away. 




CHAPTER VI. 

Josephine in Italy. 

Marriage of Josephine and Napoleon. — The army of Italy. — Proclamation of 
Napoleon. — He is called an ignoramus. — Josephine at Montebello.— Her 
popularity. Pleasure excursions. — Isola Bella. — Anecdote. — Ambition 
of Napoleon — His achievements. — Fears of the Directory. — Description 
of Napoleon.— His reserve. — Remark of Josephine.— Secret plans of Na- 
poleon.— Napoleon s love for Josephine. — Her influence over him. — A 
young aid-de-camp.— Affection of the Italians for Napoleon. — Josephine 
an ally. — She is at home in every situation. — Unembarrassed air of Jo- 
sephine.— She becomes the queen of etiquette. — Jo.sephine an object of 
homage. — Her powers of fascination. — Popular enthusiasm. — Affected 
seclusion of Napoleon. — He becomes studious. — His laudable emulation. 
— His noble ambition.— Napoleon the idol of the army.— Anecdote. — 
Napoleon mounts guard.— The " Little Corporal." — Triumphal fete.— 
Song of the soldiers.— Speech of Biirras.— Remarkable contrast.— Jo- 
sephine the center of attraction.— Jo.sephine the " Star of Napoleon."— 
She is a ministering angel.— Jealousy of Napoleon. — Arts of her enemies 
to encourage it.— The " pear" not yet ripe. — Napoleon resolves to go to 
Egypt. — Magnificence of his plans. 

ON THE 9th of March, 1796, Josephine was mar- 
ried to Napoleon. The Revolution had 
swept away every thing that was sacred in 
human and divine institutions, and the attempt had 
been made to degrade marriage into a mere partner- 
ship, which any persons might contract or dissolve at 
pleasure. According to the Revolutionary torm, Jo- 
sephine and Napoleon presented themselves before a 
magistrate, and simply announced their union. A 
few friends attended as witnesses of the ceremony. 
(92) 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 93 

Napoleon had, in the mean time, been appointed 
commander of the French forces in Italy. In twelve 
days after his nuptials, he left his bride and hastened 
to the army, then in the lowest state of poverty and 
suffering. The veteran generals, when they first saw 
the pale-faced youth who was placed over them all, 
were disposed to treat him with contempt. Hardly 
an hour elapsed after his arrival ere they felt and ad- 
mitted that he was their master. He seemed insensi- 
ble to mental exhaustion, or fatigue, or hunger, or 
want of sleep. He was upon horseback night and 
day. Almost supernatural activity was infused into 
the army. It fell like an avalanche upon the Aus- 
trians. In fifteen days after he took command, he 
proclaimed to his exulting and victorious troops, 

"Soldiers! you have gained in fifteen days six 
victories, taken one-and-twenty standards, fifty-five 
pieces of cannon, many strong places, and conquered 
the richest part of Piedmont; you have made fifteen 
thousand prisoners, and killed or wounded ten thou- 
sand men." 

Paris was perfectly intoxicated with the announce- 
ment, day after day, of these brilliant achievements. 
The name of Napoleon was upon every lip, and all 
France resounded with his praises. "This young com- 
mander," said one of the discomfited veteran generals 
of the Austrian army, "knows nothing whatever 
about the art of war. He is a perfect ignoramus. 



94 JOSEPHINE [1796 

He sets at defiance all the established rules of mili- 
tary tactics. There is no doing any thing with him." 

Napoleon, after a series of terrible conflicts and 
most signal triumphs, drove the Austrians out of 
Italy, pursued them into their own country, and at 
Leoben, almost within , sight of the steeples of Vi- 
enna, dictated a peace, which crowned him, in the 
estimation of his countrymen, with the highest glory. 
Josephine now went from Paris to Italy to meet her 
triumphant husband. They took up their residence 
at the Castle of Montebello, a most delightful country 
seat in the vicinity of Milan. 

And here Josephine past a few months of almost 
unalloyed happiness. The dark and tempestuous days 
through which she had recently been led, had pre- 
pared her to enjoy most exquisitely the calm which 
ensued. She had been in the deepest penury. She 
was now in the enjoyment of all that wealth could 
confer. She had been widowed and homeless. She 
was now the wife of a victorious general whose 
fame was reverberating through Europe, and her 
home combined almost every conceivable attraction. 
She had been a prisoner doomed to die, and her 
very jailer feared to speak to her in tones of kind- 
ness. Now she was caressed by nobles and princes; 
all the splendors of a court surrounded her, and 
every heart did her homage. Josephine presided at 
all her receptions and entertainments with an ele- 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 9$ 

gance of manner so winning as perfectly to fascinate 
the Milanese. "1 conquer provinces," said Napoleon 
of her at that time, "but Josephine wins hearts." 
The vicinity of Montebello combines perhaps as 
much of the beautiful and the sublime in scenery as 
can be found at any other spot on the surface of the 
globe. Napoleon sympathized most cordially with 
Josephine in her appreciation of the beautiful and the 
romantic; and though he devoted the energies of his 
mind, with unsleeping diligence, to the ambitious 
plans which engrossed him, he found time for many 
delightful excursions with his fascinating bride. There 
is not, perhaps, in Italy a more lovely drive than that 
from Milan, along the crystal waters of Lake Como 
to Lake Maggiore. This romantic lake, embosomed 
among the mountains, with its densely wooded is- 
lands and picturesque shores, was a favorite resort for 
excursions of pleasure. Here, in gay parties, they 
floated in boats, with well-trained rowers, and silken 
awnings, and streami: y pennants, and ravishing mu- 
sic. The island of Isola Bella, or Beautiful Island, 
with its arcades, its hanging gardens, and its palace 
of monkish gloom, was Napoleon's favorite landing- 
place. Here they often partook of refreshments, and 
engaged with all vivacity in rural festivities. It is 
stated that, while enjoying one of these excursions, 
Josephine, with one or two other ladies, was stand- 
ing under a beautiful orange-tree, loaded with fruit, 



96 JOSEPHINE [1796 

with the attention of the party all absorbed in ad- 
miring the beauties of the distant landscape, Napoleon, 
unperceived, crept up the tree, and by a sudden 
shake brought down quite a shower of the golden 
fruit upon the ladies. The companions of Josephine 
screamed with affright and ran from the tree. She, 
however, accustomed to such pleasantries, suspected 
the source, and remained unmoved. "Why, Jo- 
sephine!" exclaimed Napoleon, "you stand fire like 
one of my veterans." "And why should I not?" she 
promptly replied, "am I not the wife of their com- 
mander?" 

Napoleon, during these scenes of apparent relaxa- 
tion, had but one thought — ambition. His capacious 
mind was ever restless, ever excited, not exactly with 
the desire of personal aggrandizement, but of mighty 
enterprise, of magnificent achievement. Josephine, 
with her boundless popularity and her arts of per- 
suasion, though she often trembled in view of the 
limitless aspirations of her husband, was extremely 
influential in winning to him the powerful friends by 
whom they were surrounded. 

The achievements which Napoleon accomplished 
during the short Italian campaign are perhaps unpar- 
alleled in ancient or modern warfare. 

With a number of men under his command ever 
inferior to the forces of the Austrians, he maneuvered 
always to secure, at any one point, an array superior 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 97 

to that of his antagonists. He cut up four several 
armies which were sent from Austria to oppose him, 
took one hundred and fifteen thousand prisoners, one 
hundred and seventy standards, eleven hundred and 
forty pieces of battering cannon and field artillery, 
and drove the Austrians from the frontiers of France 
to the walls of Vienna. He was every where hailed 
as the liberator of Italy; and, encircled with the pomp 
and the power of a monarch, he received such adula- 
tion as monarchs rarely enjoy. 

The Directory in Paris began to tremble in view 
of the gigantic strides which this ambitious general 
was making. They surrounded him with spies to 
garner up his words, to watch his actions, and, if 
possible, to detect his plans. But the marble face of 
this incomprehensible youth told no secrets. Even 
to Josephine he revealed not his intentions; and no 
mortal scrutiny could explore the thoughts ferment- 
ing in his deep and capacious mind. His personal 
appearance at this time is thus described by an ob- 
server of his triumphal entrance into Milan: 

"I beheld with deep interest and extreme attention 
that extraordinary man who has performed such great 
deeds, and about whom there is something which 
seems to indicate that his career is not yet termi- 
nated. 1 found him very like his portrait, small in 
stature, thin, pale, with the air of fatigue, but not in 
ill health. He appeared to me to listen with more ab- 

M.ofH.— 5-7 



98 JOSEPHINE [1796 

straction than interest, as if occupied rather with what 
he was thinking of than with what was said to him. 
There is great intelligence in his countenance, along 
with an expression of habitual meditation, which re- 
veals nothing of what is passing within. In that 
thinking head, in that daring mind, it is impossible 
not to suppose that some designs are engendering 
which shall have their influence upon the destinies of 
Europe." 

Napoleon was fully confident of the jealousy he 
had aroused, and of the vigilance with which he was 
watched. His caution often wounded Josephine, as 
he was as impenetrable to her in reference to all his 
political plans as to any one else. While she at times 
loved him almost to adoration, she ever felt in awe 
of the unexplored recesses of his mind. He appeared 
frequently lost in thought, and, perfectly regardless of 
the pomp and the pageantry with which he was sur- 
rounded, he gave unmistakable indications that he re- 
garded the achievements he had already accomplished 
as very trivial — merely the commencement of his ca- 
reer. She once remarked to a friend, "During the 
many years we have now passed together, I never 
once beheld Bonaparte for a moment at ease — not 
even with myself He is constantly on the alert. If 
at any time he appears to show a little confidence, it 
is merely a feint to throw the person with whom he 
is conversing off his guard, and to draw forth his 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 99 

real sentiments, but never does he himself disclose 
his own thoughts." 

Napoleon now deemed it expedient to visit Paris; 
for he despised the weakness and the inefficiency of 
those who, amid the surges of the Revolution, had 
been elevated there to the supreme power, and al- 
ready he secretly contemplated the overthrow of the 
government, as soon as an opportunity promising suc- 
cess should be presented. Josephine, with her chil- 
dren, remained in Milan, that she might continue to 
dazzle the eyes of the Milanese with the splendor 
of the establishment of the Liberator of Italy, and 
that she might watch over the interests of her illus- 
trious spouse. 

She gave splendid entertainments. Her saloons 
were ever thronged with courtiers, and the inimitable 
grace she possessed enabled her, with ease and self- 
enjoyment, to preside with queenly dignity over every 
scene of gayety. She was often weary of this in- 
cessant grandeur and display, but the wishes of her 
husband and her peculiar position seemed to afford 
her no choice. Napoleon unquestionably loved Jo- 
sephine as ardently as he was capable of loving any 
one. He kept up a constant, almost a daily cor- 
respondence with her. Near the close of his life, he 
declared that he was indebted to her for every mo- 
ment of happiness he had known on earth. Ambition 
was, however, with Napoleon a far more powerful 

, Lore, 



lOO JOSEPHINE [1796 

passion than love. He was fully conscious that he 
needed the assistance of his most accomplished wife 
to raise him to that elevation he was resolved to at- 
tain. Self-reliant as he was, regardless as he ever ap- 
peared to be of the opinions or the advice of others, 
the counsel of Josephine had more influence over him 
than perhaps that of all other persons combined. Her 
expostulations not unfrequently modified his plans, 
though his high spirit could not brook the acknowl- 
edgment. Hortense and Eugene were with Josephine 
at Milan. Eugene, though but seventeen years of age, 
had joined Napoleon in the field as one of his 
aids, and had signalized himself by m iny acts of 
bravery. 

In this arrangement we see an indication of the 
plans of boundless ambition which were already 
maturing in the mind of Bonaparte. The Italians hated 
their proud and domineering masters, the Austrians. 
They almost adored Napoleon as their deliverer. He 
had established the Cisalpine Republic, and conferred 
upon them a degree of liberty which for ages they 
had not enjoyed. Napoleon had but to unfurl his 
banner, and the Italians, in countless thousands, were 
ready to rally around it. The army in Italy regarded 
the Little Corporal with sentiments of veneration and 
affection, for which we may search history in vain for 
a parallel. Italy consequently became the base of N.;- 
poleon's operations. There he was strongly in- 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY loi 

trenched. In case of failure in any of his operations 
in Paris, he could retire behind the Alps, and bid de- 
fiance to his foes. 

Josephine was exactly the partner he needed to 
protect these all-important interests during his ab- 
sence. Her strong and active intelligence, her sin- 
cerity, her unrivaled powers of fascinating all who 
approached her, and her entire devotion to Napoleon, 
rendered her an ally of exceeding efficiency. Power- 
ful as was the arm of Napoleon, he never could have 
risen to the greatness he attained without the aid of 
Josephine. She, at Milan, kept up the splendor of a 
royal court. The pleasure-loving Italians ever thronged 
her saloons. The most illustrious nobles were emu- 
lous to win her favor, that they might obtain emi- 
nence in the service of her renowned spouse. At 
the fetes and entertainments she gave to the rejoicing 
Milanese, she obtained access to almost every mind it 
was desirable to influence. No one could approach 
Josephine without becoming her friend, and a friend 
once gained was never lost. A weak woman, under 
these circumstances, which so severely tested the 
character, would have been often extremely embar- 
rassed, and would have made many mistakes. It 
was remarkable in Josephine, that, notwithstanding 
the seclusion of her childhood and early youth, she 
ever appeared self-possessed, graceful, and at home in 
every situation in which she was placed. She moved 



I02 JOSEPHINE [1796 

through the dazzling scenes of her court at Milan 
scenes of unaccustomed brilliance which had so sud- 
denly burst upon her, with an air as entirely nat- 
ural and unembarrassed as if her whole life had been 
passed in the saloons of monarchs. She conversed 
with the most distinguished generals of armies, 
with nobles of the highest rank, with statesmen and 
scholars of wide-spread renown, with a fluency, an 
appropriateness, and an inimitable tact which would 
seem to indicate that she had been cradled in the lap 
of princes, and nurtured in the society of courts. It 
seemed never to be necessary for her to study the 
rules of etiquette. She was never accustomed to look 
to others to ascertain what conduct was proper un- 
der any circumstances. Instinctive delicacy was her 
unerring teacher, and from her bearing others com- 
piled their code of politeness. She became the queen 
of etiquette, not the subject. 

Thus, while Napoleon, in Paris, was cautiously 
scrutinizing the state of public affairs, and endeavor- 
ing to gain a position there, Josephine, with the en- 
tire concentration of all her energies to his interests, 
was gaining for him in Milan vast accessions of 
power. She had no conception, indeed, of the great- 
ness he was destined to attain. But she loved her 
husband. She was proud of his rising renown, and 
it was her sole ambition to increase, in every way in 
her power, the luster of his name. Aristocracy cir- 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 103 

cled around her in delighted homage, while poverty, 
charmed by her sympathy and her beneficence, ever 
greeted her with acclamations. The exploits of Na- 
poleon dazzled the world, and the unthinking world 
has attributed his greatness to his own unaided arm. 
But the gentleness of Josephine was one of the es- 
sential elements in the promotion of his greatness. 
In co-operation with her, he rose. As soon as he 
abandoned her, he fell. 

Josephine soon rejoined her husband in Paris, 
where she very essentially aided, by her fascinating 
powers of persuasion, in disarming the hostility of 
those who were jealous of his rising fame, and in at- 
taching to him such adherents as could promote his 
interests. In the saloons of Josephine, many of the 
most heroic youths of France were led to ally their 
fortunes with those of the young general, whose fame 
had so suddenly burst upon the world. She had the 
rare faculty of diffusing animation and cheerfulness 
wherever she appeared. "It is," she once beautifully 
remarked, "a necessity of my heart to love others, 
and to be loved by them in return." "There is only 
one occasion," she again said, "in which I would 
voluntarily use the words / will, namely, when I 
would say, 'I will that all around me be happy.'" 

Napoleon singularly displayed his knowledge of 
human nature in the course he pursued upon his re- 
turn to Paris. He assumed none of the pride of a 



I04 JOSEPHINE [1796 

conqueror. He studiously avoided every thing like 
ostentatious display. Day after day his lieutenants 
arrived, bringing the standards taken from the Aus- 
trians. Pictures, and statues, and other works of art 
extorted from the conquered, were daily making their 
appearance, keeping the metropolis in a state of the 
most intense excitement. The Parisians were never 
weary of reading and re-reading those extraordinary 
proclamations of Napoleon, which, in such glowing 
language, described his almost miraculous victories. 
The enthusiasm of the people was thus raised to the 
highest pitch. The anxiety of the public to see this 
young and mysterious victor was intense beyond de- 
scription. But he knew enough of the human heart 
to be conscious that, by avoiding the gratification of 
these wishes, he did but enhance their intensity. 
Modestly retiring to an unostentatious mansion in the 
Rue Chantereine, which, in compliment to him, had 
received the name of Rue de la Victoire, he secluded 
himself from the public gaze. He devoted his time 
most assiduously to study, and to conversation with 
learned men. He laid aside his military garb, and 
assumed the plain dress of a member of the Institute. 
When he walked the streets, he was seldom rec- 
ognized by the people. Though his society was 
courted in the highest circles of Paris, his ambition 
was too lofty to be gratified with shining among the 
stars of fashion. Though he had as yet reached but 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 105 

the twenty-sixth year of his age, he had already 
gained the reputation of being the first of generals. 
He was emulous not only of appearing to be but, 
also of actually being, an accomplished scholar. "I 
well knew," said he, "that the lowest drummer in 
the army would respect me more for being a scholar 
as well as a soldier." 

Napoleon might have enriched himself beyond all 
bounds in his Italian campaign had he been disposed 
to do so. Josephine, at times, remonstrated against 
his personal habits of economy, while he was con- 
ferring millions added to millions upon France. But 
the ambition of her husband, inordinate as it was, 
was as subHme an ambition as any one could feel in 
view of merely worldly interests. He wished to ac- 
quire the renown of benefiting mankind by the per- 
formance of the noblest exploits. His ultimate end 
was his own fame. But he knew that the durability 
of that fame could only be secured by the accom- 
plishment of noble ends. 

The effeminate figure of Napoleon in these early 
days had caused the soldiers to blend with their 
amazed admiration of his military genius a kind of 
fondness of affection for which no parallel can be 
found in ancient or modern story. The soldiers were 
ever rehearsing to one another, by their night-fires 
and in their long marches, anecdotes of his perfect 
fearlessness, his brilliant sayings, his imperious bear- 



io6 JOSEPHINE [1796 

ing, by which he overawed the haughtiness of aristo- 
cratic power, and his magnanimous acts toward the 
poor and the lowly. 

One night, when the army in Italy was in great 
peril, worn out with the fatigue of sleeplessness and 
of battle, and surrounded by Austrians, Napoleon was 
taking the round of his posts in disguise, to ascertain 
the vigilance of his sentinels. He found one poor 
soldier, in perfect exhaustion, asleep at his post. 
Napoleon shouldered his musket, and stood sentry for 
him for half an hour. When the man awoke and 
recognized the countenance of his general, he sank 
back upon the ground in terror and despair. He 
knew that death was the doom for such a crime. 
"Here, comrade," said Napoleon, kindly, "here is 
your musket. You have fought hard and marched 
long, and your sleep is excusable. But a moment's 
inattention might at present ruin the army. I 
happened to be awake, and have guarded your 
post for you. You will be more careful another 
time." 

At the "terrible passage of the bridge of Lodi," 
Napoleon stood at one of the guns, in the very hot- 
test of the fire, directing it with his own hand. The 
soldiers, delighted at this very unusual exhibition of 
the readiness of their general to share all the toils 
and perils of the humblest private in the ranks, gave 
him the honorary and affectionate nickname of "The 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 107 

Little Corporal." By this appellation he was after- 
ward universally known in the army. The enthusiasm 
of the soldiers invested him with supernatural endow- 
ments, and every one was ready at any moment to 
peril life fot the Little Corporal. 

The government at Paris, rapidly waning in popu- 
larity, notwithstanding their extreme jealousy of the 
wide-spreadmg influence of this victorious general, 
was compelled, by the spontaneous acclamations of 
the people, to give him a public triumph, when the 
famous treaty which Napoleon had effected in Italy 
was to be formally presented to the Directory. The 
magnificent court of the Luxembourg was embellished 
with the flags of the armies which he had conquered, 
and the youthful hero of Lodi, of Areola, and of Ri- 
voli made his first triumphant appearance in the 
streets of Paris. The enthusiasm of the vast con- 
course of excitable Parisians overleaped all bounds. 
The soldiers of the proud army of Italy sang at their 
encampments, in enthusiastic chorus, a song in which 
they declared that it was high time to eject the 
lawyers from the government, and make the Little 
Corporal the ruler of France. Barras, the friend of 
Josephine, who had selected Napoleon to quell the 
insurrection in Paris, and who had secured to him 
the command of the army of Italy, declared in a 
eulogistic speech on this occasion that "Nature had 
exhausted all her powers in the creation of a Bona- 



io8 JOSEPHINE [1796 

parte." This sentiment was received with the most 
deafening peals of applause. 

But how like the phantasmagoria of magic has 
this change burst upon the bewildered Josephine. 
But a few months before, her husband, wan and 
wasted with imprisonment and woe, had been led 
from the subterranean dungeons of this very palace, 
with the execrations of the populace torturing his ear, 
to bleed upon the scaffold. She, also, was then her- 
self a prisoner, without even a pillow for her weary 
head, awaiting the dawn of the morning which was 
to conduct her steps to a frightful death. Her chil- 
dren, Hortense and Eugene, had been rescued from 
homelessness, friendlessness, and beggary only by the 
hand of charity, and were dependent upon that charity 
for shelter and for daily bread. Now the weeds of 
widowhood have given place to the robes of the re- 
joicing bride, and that palace is gorgeously decorated 
in honor of the world-renowned companion upon 
whose arm she proudly leans. The acclamations re- 
sounding to his praise reverberate over mountain and 
valley, through every city and village of France. 
Princes, embassadors, and courtiers obsequiously 
crowd the saloons of Josephine. Eugene, an officer 
in the army, high in rank and honor, is lured along 
life's perilous pathway by the most brilliant pros- 
pects. Hortense in dazzling beauty, and surrounded 
by admirers, is intoxicated with the splendor, 



1796] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 109 

which, like Oriental enchantment, has burst upon her 
view. 

Josephine, so beautifully called "the Star of Na- 
poleon," was more than the harbinger of his rising. 
She gave additional luster to his brilliance, and was 
as the gentle zephyr, which sweeps away the mists 
and vapors, and presents a transparent sky through 
which the undimmed luminary may shine. Her per- 
suasive influence was unweariedly and most success- 
fully exerted in winning friends and in disarming ad- 
versaries. The admiration which was excited for the 
stern warrior in his solitary, silent, unapproachable 
grandeur, whose garments had been dyed in blood, 
whose fearful path had been signalized by conflagra- 
tions, and shrieks, and the wailings of the dying, was 
"*• humanized and softened by the gentle loveliness of 
his companion, who was ever a ministering angel, 
breathing words of kindness, and diffusing around 
her the spirit of harmony and love. Napoleon ever 
freely acknowledged his indebtedness to Josephine for 
her aid in these morning hours of his greatness. 

But unalloyed happiness is never allotted to mor- 
tals. Josephine's very loveliness of person and of 
character was to her the occasion of many hours of 
heaviness. No one could be insensible to the power 
of her attractions. The music of her voice, the sweet- 
ness of her smile, the grace of her manners, excited 
so much admiration, invested her with a popularity so 



no JOSEPHINE [1796 

universal and enthusiastic, that Napoleon was, at times, 
not a little disturbed by jealousy. Her appearance 
was ever the signal for crowds to gather around her. 
The most distinguished and the most gallant men in 
France vied with each other in doing her homage. 
Some of the relatives of Napoleon, envious of the in- 
fluence she exerted over her illustrious spouse, and 
anxious, by undermining her power, to subserve their 
own interests, were untiring in their endeavors to 
foster all these jealousies. Josephine was exceedingly 
pained by the occasional indications of her husband's 
distrust. A word from his lips, a glance from his 
eye, often sent her to her chamber with weeping eyes 
and an aching heart. An interview with her husband, 
however, invariably removed his suspicions, and he 
gave her renewed assurances of his confidence and his 
love. 

The plans of Napoleon in reference to his future 
operations were still in a state of great uncertainty. 
His restless spirit could not brook inactivity., He 
saw clearly that the time had not yet come in which 
he could, with the prospect of success, undertake to 
overthrow the Revolutionary government and grasp 
the reins of power himself. To use his own expres- 
sive language, "The pear was not yet ripe." To one 
of his intimate friends he remarked, "They do not 
long preserve at Paris the remembrance of any thing. 
If I remain any length of time unemployed, I am un- 



1797] JOSEPHINE IN ITALY iii 

"done. The renown of one, in this great Babylon, 
speedily supplants that of another. If I am seen three 
times at the opera, I shall no longer be an object of 
curiosity. You need not talk of the desire of the 
citizens to see me. Crowds, at least as great, would 
go to see me led out to the scaffold. I am deter- 
mined not to remain in Paris. There is nothing here 
to be done. Every thing here passes away. My 
glory is already declining. This little corner of Europe 
is too small to supply it. We must go to the East. 
All the great men of the world have there acquired 
their celebrity. We will go to Egypt." 

Such was the grandeur of the dreams of a young 
man who had not yet passed his twenty-sixth year. 
And these were not the musings of a wild and vision- 
ary brain, but the deeply laid and cautiously guarded 
plans of a mind which had meditated profoundly upon 
all probable emergencies, and which had carefully 
weighed all the means which could be furnished for 
the accomplishment of an enterprise so arduous and 
so majestic. 




CHAPTER VII. 

Josephine at Malmaison. 

Contemplated invasion of England. — Expedition to Egypt. — Hopes of the 
Directory. — Napoleon's dislike of the Revolution. — Napoleon a Royalist. 

— Sailing of the expedition. — A corps oi savans. — Jo-sephine in Toulon. 
— Plan of Napoleon. — No obstacle insurmountable. — L,oneliness of Joseph- 
ine. — Residence at Plombieres.— Josephine sends for her daughter. — 
Letter to Madame Campan. — Napoleon sends a frigate for Jo.sephine. — 
Serious accident. — Capture of Pomona frigate. — Purchase of Mal- 
maison. — Josephine removes thither. — Espionage of Napoleon. — Play- 
fulness of Hortense. — Carrat. — The apparition.— Hortense a tormentor. 

— A shower-bath in embryo. — Fruits of loving darkness rather than 
light. — Murder! fire ! — Josepiiiue's zeal for her husband. — I^etter to an 
emigrant. — Remarks of Barras.— Good advice offered. — Correspond- 
ence intercepted. — False charges against Josephine. — Napoleon's confi- 
dence impaired.— Employments of Josephine.— She visits the poor. — 
She comforts the afflicted.- Benevolence of Josephine's heart. 

THE Directory in Paris became daily more and 
more alarmed, in view of the vast and ever- 
increasing popularity of the conqueror of Italy. 
A plan had been formed for the invasion of England, 
and this was deemed a good opportunity for sending 
from France their dangerous rival. Napoleon was 
appointed commander-in-chief of the army of England. 
He visited the coast, and devoted ten days and 
nights, with his extraordinary rapidity of apprehen- 
sion, in investigating the prospects of success. He 
returned to Paris, saying, " It is too doubtful a 
chance. 1 will not hazard on such a throw the 

(112) 



1798] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 113 

fate of France." All his energies were then turned 
to his Egyptian expedition. He hoped to gain repu- 
tation and power in Egypt, pass through into India, 
raise an army of natives, headed by European officers 
and energized by an infusion of European soldiers, 
and thus drive the English out of India. It was a 
bold plan. The very grandeur of the enterprise 
roused the enthusiasm of France. The Directory, 
secretly rejoicing at the prospect of sending Na- 
poleon so far away, and hoping that he would 
perish on the sands of Africa, without much reluc- 
tance agreed to his proposal. 

Napoleon never loved the Revolution, and he most 
thoroughly detested the infamous and sanguinary des- 
potism which had risen upon the ruins of the altar 
and the throne. He chanced to be in Paris when the 
drunken and ragged mob, like an inundation, broke 
into the Tuileries, and heaped upon the humiliated 
Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette the most infamous 
outrages. He saw the monarch standing at the win- 
dow of his palace, with the dirty red cap of Jacobin- 
ism thrust upon that brow which had worn the 
crown of Charlemagne. At the sight, the blood 
boiled in the veins of the youthful Napoleon. He 
could not endure the spectacle. Turning upon his 
heel, he indignantly exclaimed, "The wretches! had 
they mown down four or five hundred with grape- 
shot, the rest would speedily have taken to flight." 

M, ofH.— 5-8 



114 JOSEPHINE [1798 

He often expressed his dislike of the violent revo- 
lutionary course which the Directory were pursuing, 
and stated freely to his friends, "For my part, I de- 
clare, that if I had only the option between royalty 
and the system of these gentlemen, I would not hesi- 
tate for one moment to declare for a king." Just 
before Napoleon embarked for the East, Bourrienne 
asked him if he was really determined to risk his fate on 
the perilous expedition to Egypt. "Yes!" he replied. 
"If I should remain here, it would be necessary to 
overturn this miserable government, and make myself 
king. But we must not think of that yet. The no- 
bles will not consent to it. I have sounded, but I 
find the time for that has not yet arrived. I must 
first dazzle these gentlemen by my exploits." 

On the morning of the 19th of May, 1798, the 
fleet set sail from the harbor of Toulon. It was a 
morning of surpassing loveliness, and seldom, if ever, 
has the unclouded sun shone upon a more brilliant 
scene. The magnificent armament extended over a 
semicircle of not less than eighteen miles. The fleet 
consisted of thirteen ships of the line, fourteen frig- 
ates, and four hundred transports. They carried forty 
thousand picked soldiers, and officers of the highest 
celebrity. For the first time in the world, a corps of 
scientific gentlemen was attached to a military expe- 
dition. One hundred eminent artists and connois- 
seurs Napoleon had collected to gather the antiquarian 



1798] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 115 

treasures of Egypt, and to extend the boundaries of 
science by the observation of the phenomena of na- 
ture. They formed a part of the staff of the invading 
army. 

Josephine accompanied her husband to Toulon, 
and remained with him until his embarkation. She 
was extremely anxious to go with him to Egypt, and 
with tears plead that he would allow her to share his 
hardships and his perils. Napoleon, however, deemed 
the hazards to which they would be exposed, and 
the fatigues and sufferings they must necessarily en- 
dure, as quite too formidable for Josephine to en- 
counter. But in the anguish of their parting, which 
is described as most tender, she wrung from him a 
promise to allow her to follow as soon as affairs in 
the East should render it prudent for her to do so. 
It can hardly be possible, however, that Napoleon 
ever expected to see her in Egypt. He himself has 
thus described the objects he had in view in this vast 
enterprise: "i. To establish on the banks of the 
Nile a French colony, which could exist without 
slaves, and supply the place of Saint Domingo. 2. 
To open a market for the manufactures of France in 
Africa, Arabia, and Syria, and to obtain for the pro- 
ductions of his countrymen the productions of those 
countries. 3. To set out from Egypt, with an army 
of sixty thousand men, for the Indus, rouse the Mah- 
rattas to a revolt, and excite against the English the 



ii6 JOSEPHINE [1798 

population of those vast countries. Sixty thousand 
men, half Europeans, half natives, transported on fifty 
thousand camels and ten thousand horses, carrying 
with them provisions for fifty days, v^ater for six, 
with one hundred and fifty pieces of cannon and 
double ammunition, would arrive in four months in 
India. The ocean ceased to be an obstacle when ves- 
sels were constructed. The desert becomes passable 
the moment you have camels and dromedaries in 
abundance." 

As the fleet got under way, Josephine stood upon 
a balcony, with tearful eyes, gazing upon the scene, 
so imposing, and yet so sorrowful to her. The 
Orient, a ship of enormous magnitude, contained her 
husband and her son. They were going Into the 
midst of dangers from whence it was doubtful whether 
they would ever return. She fixed her eyes upon the 
ship as its lessening sails grew fainter and fainter in 
the distance, until the hardly discernible speck disap- 
peared beneath the horizon, which the blue waves of 
the Mediterranean outlined. She retired to her room 
with those feelings of loneliness and desolation which 
the circumstances were so peculiarly calculated to in- 
spire. 

It was arranged that Josephine should take up her 
residence, until Napoleon should send for her, at 
Plombieres, a celebrated watering-place, whose medic- 
inal springs were supposed to be very efficacious in 



1798] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 117 

restoring maternity. She sent for Hortense, at that 
time fifteen years of age, and who was then in the 
boardmg-school of the distinguished Madame Campan. 
Josephine wished for her daughter to be her compan- 
ion during the weary hours of her absence from her 
husband. She was expecting that, as soon as a land- 
ing should be effected in Egypt, a frigate would be 
dispatched to convey her to the banks of the Nile. 
She found solace during the lingering weeks of ex- 
pectation in devoting herself to the instruction of her 
daughter. Her comprehensive and excellent views on 
the subject of education are developed in a letter 
which she at this time wrote to Madame Campan, to 
accompany a niece who was to return to her 
school: 

"My dear Madame Campan, — With my niece, 
whom I return to your charge, receive also my 
thanks and my reproof. The former are due for the 
great care and brilliant education which you have be- 
stowed upon the child; the latter, for the faults 
which your sagacity must have discovered, but which 
your indulgence has tolerated. The girl is gentle, 
but shy; well informed, but haughty; talented, but 
thoughtless. She does not please, and takes no pains 
to render herself agreeable. She conceives that the 
reputation of her uncle and the bravery of her father 
are every thing. Teach her, and ihat by the most 
effectual means, how absolutely unavailing are those 



ii8 JOSEPHINE [1798 

qualities which are not personal. We live in an age 
where each is the author of his own fortunes; and if 
those who serve the state in the first ranks ought to 
have some advantages and enjoy some privileges, 
they should, on that account, strive only to render 
themselves more beloved and more useful. It is 
solely by acting thus that they can have some chance 
of excusing their good fortune in the eyes of envy. 
Of these things, my dear Madame Campan, you must 
not allow my niece to remain ignorant; and such are 
the instructions which, in my name, you should re- 
peat to her constantly. It is my pleasure that she 
treat as equals every one of her companions, most of 
whom are better or as good as herself, their only in- 
feriority consisting in not having relations so able or 
so fortunate." 

Notwithstanding Napoleon's strong disinclination 
to have Josephine join him in Egypt, and though in 
every letter he strongly urged her to relinquish the 
plan, she was so importunate in her solicitations that 
he sent the Pomona frigate to convey her across the 
Mediterranean. She was prevented from embarking 
by an accident, which she must have deemed a very 
serious calamity, but which probably saved her from 
years of captivity. She was one morning sitting in 
her saloon, busy with her needle, and conversing 
with several ladies who were her companions and 
intimate friends, when a lady who was standing 



1798] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 119 

in the balcony called the attention of the party to a 
very beautiful dog which was passing in the street. 
All the ladies rushed upon the balcony, when, with a 
fearful crash, it broke down, and precipitated them 
upon the pavement. Though no lives were lost, sev- 
eral of the party were dreadfully injured. Josephine 
was so severely bruised as to be utterly helpless, and 
for some time she was fed like an infant. It was 
several months before she was sufficiently recovered 
to be able to leave her house. This grievous disap- 
pointment, however, probably saved her from another, 
which would have been far more severely felt. The 
frigate in which she was to have embarked, had it 
not been for this accident, was captured by one of 
the English cruisers and taken to London. 

Napoleon went to Egypt because he thought it 
the shortest route to the vacant throne of the Bour- 
bons. He despised the rulers who were degrading 
France, and placing a stigma upon popular liberty by 
their ignorance and their violence, and he resolved 
upon their overthrow. Consequently, while guiding 
the movements of his army upon the banks of the 
Nile, his attention was continually directed to Paris. 
He wrote to Josephine that he intended ere long to 
return, and directed her to purchase a pleasant coun- 
try seat somewhere in the vicinity of Paris. 

About ten miles from the metropolis and five 
miles from Versailles there was a beautiful chateau, 



I20 JOSEPHINE [1799 

most charmingly situated, called Malmaison. This es- 
tate Josephine purchased, greatly enlarging the 
grounds, at an expense of about one hundred thou- 
sand dollars. This lovely retreat possessed unfailing 
rural attraction for a mind formed, like that of Jo- 
sephine, for the rich appreciation of all that is lovely 
in the aspects of nature. Napoleon" was delighted 
with the purchase, and expended subsequently in- 
credible sums in repairs and enlargements, and in 
embellishments of statues, paintings, and furniture. 
This was ever the favorite residence of Napoleon and 
Josephine. 

As the leaves of autumn began to fall, Josephine, 
who had been slowly recovering from the effects of 
the accident, left Plombieres and took up her resi- 
dence at Malmaison. Napoleon was absent in Egypt 
about eighteen months. During the winter and the 
ensuing summer, Josephine remained with Hortense, 
and several other ladies, who composed her most 
agreeable household, in this beautiful retreat. The 
celebrity of Napoleon surrounded them with friends, 
and that elegant mansion was the resort of the most 
illustrious in rank and intellect. Napoleon, who had 
ever a spice of jealousy in his nature, had every thing 
reported to him which occurred at Malmaison. He 
was informed respecting all the guests who visited 
the chateau, and of the conversation which passed in 
every interview. 



1799] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 121 

Hortense was a lively girl of fifteen, and the time 
hung rather heavily upon her hands. She amused 
herself in playing all manner of pranks upon a very 
singular valet de chambre, by the name of Carrat, 
whom her mother had brought from Italy, This man 
was very timid and eccentric, but, with most enthu- 
siastic devotion, attached to the service of Joseph- 
ine. 

One evening Carrat received orders to attend 
Madame Bonaparte and several ladies who were with 
her in their twilight walk through the magnificent 
park belonging to the estate. Carrat, ever delighted 
with an opportunity to display his attachment to his 
kind mistress, obeyed with great alacrity. No ladies 
in peril could desire a more valiant knight-errant than 
the vaunting little Italian assumed to be. They had 
not advanced far into the somber shadows of the 
grove when they saw, solemnly emerging from the 
obscurity, a tall specter in its winding-sheet. The 
fearful apparition approached the party, when the 
valet, terrified beyond all power of self-control, and 
uttering the most fearful shrieks, abandoned the ladies 
to the tender mercies of the ghost, and fled. The 
phantom, with its white drapery fluttering in the 
wind, pursued him. Soon the steps of the affrighted 
valet began to falter, and he dropped upon the 
ground insensible, in a fit. Hortense, who had been 
perfectly convulsed with laughter in view of the 



122 JOSEPHINE [1799 

triumphant success of her experiment, was now cor- 
respondingly alarmed. The ghost was a fellow- 
servant of Carrat, who had been dressed out under 
the superintendence of the mischievous Hortense. 

As the poor man recovered without any serious 
injury and without the slightest diminution of his ex- 
cessive vanity, the fun-loving Hortense could not 
repress her propensity still to make him the butt of 
her practical jokes. It was a defect in her character 
that she could find pleasure in this mischievous kind 
of torment. It is not improbable that this trait of 
character, which appears so excusable in a mirthful 
girl of fifteen, was the cause of that incessant train ot 
sorrows which subsequently embittered her whole life. 
Carrat was perfectly devoted to Josephine; Hortense 
was his torment. 

The unlucky valet occupied a sleeping-room sep^ 
arated from another only by a thin deal partition. A 
hole was made through this, and a pail of water so 
suspended in equilibrium over the pillow of the vic- 
tim, that by drawing a cord the whole contents 
would be emptied upon his head. The supports of 
the bedstead had also been removed, so that the 
whole fabric would fall as soon as any weight was 
placed upon it. Carrat, among his other eccentrici- 
ties, was ever in the habit of going to bed without 
a light. Matters being thus prepared, Hortense, who 
had employed an attendant to aid her in her plans, 



1799] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 123 

stood in an adjoining room to enjoy tlie catastrophe. 

The poor man entered his room, and threw him- 
self upon his pallet. Down it came with a crash, and 
his shriek of fright was for a moment drowned in 
the inundation of water. Hortense, knowing the al- 
most delirious fear which the puerile valet had of 
reptiles, cried, "Poor man! poor man! what will he 
do. The water was full of toads." Carrat, in utter 
darkness, drenched with cold water, and overwhelmed 
in the ruins of his bed and bedding, shrieked, "Mur- 
der! help! fire! drowning!" while Hortense and her 
accomplices enjoyed his ludicrous terror. She after- 
ward made him a handsome present as a compensa- 
tion. Hortense was not a malicious girl, but, like 
many others who are mirthful and thoughtless, she 
found a strange pleasure in teasing. Josephine's only 
happiness was in making others happy. "It is a 
necessity of my heart," she said, "to love those 
around me, and to be loved by them in return." 
How much more noble such a spirit! 

Though Josephine was not fully informed respect- 
ing the ultimate designs of Napoleon, and though 
Napoleon at this time probably had no very definite 
plans respecting his future actions, his interests man- 
ifestly required that she should exert all her powers 
to strengthen the ties of those who were already his 
friends, and to gain others to his rising name. Jo- 
sephine acquired great influence over many members of 



124 JOSEPHINE [1799 

the Directory, and this influence she was continually 
exerting for the relief of those who were in distress. 
Many of the proscribed emigrants were indebted to 
her for liberty and the restoration of their forfeited 
estates. The following letter from Josephine to an 
emigrant, whose fortune, and perhaps life she had 
saved, exhibits her intellectual elevation as well as the 
amiability of her heart. 

"Sir, — Your petition, which reached Malmaison on 
the 1 2th, was presented the same evening, and by 
myself, to Citizen Barras. I have the pleasure to an- 
nounce to you that the decision is favorable, and that 
now, erased from the fatal list, you are restored to all 
the rights of a French citizen. But in transmitting a 
communication not less agreeable to me than to your- 
self, permit me to enhance its value by repeating to 
you the exact words with which it was accompanied 
by the Director. ' 1 have usually little to deny you, 
madame,' said he, presenting me with a sealed in- 
closure containing the act of restoration, ' and cer- 
tainly, when humanity is concerned, I can have far less 
objection. But pity for misfortune does not exclude 
justice, and justice is inseparable from the love of 
truth. As unfortunate, M, de Sansal merits commiser- 
ation. As an emigrant, he has right to none. I will 
say more; had 1 been disposed to be severe, there 
existed a cause for stern reprisals on the part of a 
government to whose kindness he replies by insults. 



1799] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 125 

Although I despise those of such a man, I appreciate 
them. They prove an ungrateful heart and a narrow 
mind. Let him be careful about expressing his hatred. 
All my colleagues are not equally indulgent.' 

" Blame only yourself, sir, for the small share of 
amenity in these counsels. They are harsh, perhaps, 
but useful; and you will do well to render them ef- 
fective. Regard, also, the faithfulness with which I 
transcribe them as a proof of the deep interest I 
take in your welfare, and of my anxiety that the inter- 
ference of your friends may be justified by your future 
conduct." 

For some time a very constant correspondence was 
kept up between Napoleon and Josephine, but after 
the destruction of the French fleet by Lord Nelson in 
the Bay of Aboukir, and when the Mediterranean had 
become completely blocked up by English cruisers. 
almost every letter was intercepted. 

For political purposes, there were many who wished 
to destroy the influence which Josephine had acquired 
over the mind of her illustrious husband. In the ac- 
comphshment of this plan, they endeavored, in every 
way in their power, to excite the jealousy of Napo- 
leon. The very efforts which Josephine was making 
to attract the most influential men in Paris to her 
saloon were represented to him as indications of levity 
of character, and of a spirit of unpardonable coquetry. 
The enemies of Josephine had their influential agents 



126 JOSEPHINE [1799 

in the camp of Napoleon, and with malice, never 
weary, they whispered these suspicions into his ear. 
The jealousy of his impassioned nature was strongly 
aroused. In his indignation, he wrote to Josephine in 
terms of great severity, accusing her of "playing the 
coquette with all the world." She was very deeply 
wounded by these unjust suspicions, and wrote to him 
a letter in reply, which, for tenderness and delicacy of 
sentiment, and the expression of conscious innocence, 
is hardly surpassed by any thing which has ever been 
written. Her letter was intercepted, and Napoleon 
never saw it. For many months nearly all communica- 
tion with the army of Egypt was cut off by the vigilance 
of the English. There were flying reports ever reaching 
the ear of Josephine of disaster to the army, and even 
of the death of Napoleon. Josephine was at times in 
great distress. She knew not the fate of her husband 
or her son. She knew that, by the grossest deception, 
her husband's confidence in her had been greatly im- 
paired, and she feared that, should he return, she 
might never be able to regain his affections. Still, 
she devoted herself with unwearied diligence in watch- 
ing over all his interests, and though her heart was 
often oppressed with anguish, she did every thing in 
her power to retain the aspect of cheerfulness and of 
sanguine hope. One of her favorite amusements — 
the favorite amusement of almost every refined mind 
— was found in the cultivation of flowers. She passed 



1799] JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 127 

a portion of every pleasant day with Hortense among 
the flower-beds, with the hoe, and the watering-pot, 
and the pruning-knife. Hortense, though she loved 
the society of her mother, was not fond of these em- 
ployments, and in subsequent life she never turned to 
them for a solace. With Josephine, however, this 
taste remained unchanged through life. She was also 
very fond of leaving the aristocratic walks of Mal- 
maison, and sauntering through the lanes and the rural 
roads, where she could enter the cottages of the peas- 
ants, and listen to their simple tales of joy and grief. 
To many of these dwellings her visit was as the mis- 
sion of an angel. Her purse was never closed against 
the wants of penury. But that which rendered her 
still more a ministering spirit to the poor was that 
her heart was ever open, with its full flood of sym- 
pathy, to share the grief of their bereavements, and to 
rejoice in their joy. When she sat upon the throne 
of France, and even long after she sank into the re- 
pose of the grave, the region around Malmaison was 
full of recitals of her benevolence. Aristocratic pride 
at times aflfected to look down with contempt upon 
the elevated enjoyments of a noble heart. 

Thus occupied in pleading with those in power 
for those of illustrious birth who had, by emigration, 
forfeited both property and life; in visiting the sick 
and the sorrowing in the humble cottages around her; 
in presiding with queenly dignity over the brilliant 



128 JOSEPHINE [1799 

soirees in her own saloons, where talent and rank 
were ever assembled, and in diffusing the sunlight of 
her own cheerful heart throughout the whole house- 
hold at Malmaison, Josephine, through weary months, 
awaited tidings from her absent husband. 




W3:' 



Ftau'.;e.— The "pear 
on at Frejus — TospnV 
path.— j... 

— Meeliny. 



PORTRAIT. NAPOLEON 



• cpest giGoni, i tic rrerich wc^v, vy'c.. 



on reigr 
gain enten 

.,u .u A,i:ii.:>i every poii 
■:d from BoraDrrte 3rd ^ 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Josephine the Wife of the First Consul. 

Deplorable condition of France.— The "pear" now ripe.— Rveniiiff party. — 
I,anding of Napoleon nt Frejus. — Jos<-phine hastens to meet him. — They 
cross each other's path.— Johepliiiie's enemies succeed in rousing the 
anger of Najjoleon. — Meeting of Jo.sephine and Eugene. — She is repulsed 
by Napoleon.— Josephine's i)roini>t obedience. — Naijoleou relents. — The 
reconciliation. — Napoleon vanquished. — Reception of N.'ipoleon on his 
return to France. — He overthrows the Directory. — He is .sustained by the 
people.— Painful suspense of Josephine. — Napoleon relieves it. — His 
usurping ambition. — Remark of the Al)bC Si6yfis. — Jo.sei)hine secures 
friends to Napoleon.— Residence at the lyUxembourg.— Marriage of 
Murat and Caroline. — The Tuileries refurnished. — Napoleon and Jo- 
eephine take up their residence in the Tuileries.— Apartments of Jo- 
sephine. — Her dress. — Her social triumph. — Josephine the Queen of 
Hearts.— Her varied nccomplishments.— Symmetry of her form.— At- 
tractiveness of her conversation. — Swreetuess of Josephine's voice. — At- 
tractions of Malmaison. — The da ngers of greatness.— Jo.sephiue's anxiety 
and care.— Remark of Napoleon to Bourrienue. 

THE winter of 1799 opened upon France in the 
deepest gloom. The French were weary of 
the horrors of the Revolution. All business 
"Was at a stand. The poor had neither employment 
nor bread. Starvation reigned in the capital. The 
Austrians had again entered Italy, and beaten the 
French at almost every point. No tidings were re- 
ceived from Bonaparte and the army in Kgypt. Ru- 
mors of the death of Napoleon and of a disastrous 
state of the enterprise filled the city. The govern- 
ment at Paris, composed of men who had emerged 

M. ofH.— 5— 9 (»2y) 



I30 JOSEPHINE [1799 

from obscurity in the storms of revolution, was im- 
becile and tyrannical in the extreme. The nation was 
weary beyond endurance of the strife of contending 
factions, and ardently desired some strong arm to be , 
extended for the restoration of order, and for the es- 
tabUshment of an efficient and reputable government. 
"The pear was ripe." 

On the evening of the 9th of November, a large and 
very brilliant party was assembled in Paris at the 
house of M. Gohier, president of the Directory. The 
company included all the most distinguished persons 
then resident in the metropolis. Josephine, being in 
Paris at that time, was one of the guests. About 
midnight, the gentlemen and ladies were gathering 
around a supper table very sumptuously spread, when 
they were startled by a telegraphic announcement, 
communicated to their host, that Bonaparte had landed 
that morning at Frejus, a small town upon the Medi- 
terranean shore. The announcement created the most 
profound sensation. All knew that Napoleon had not 
returned at that critical moment without an object. 
Many were pale with apprehension, conscious that 
his popularity with the army would enable him to 
wrest from them their ill-gotten power. Others were 
elated with hope. Yet universal embarrassment pre- 
vailed. None dared to express their thoughts. No 
efforts could revive the conviviality of the evening, 
and the party soon dispersed. 



1799] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 131 

Josephine, with the deepest emotion, hastened 
home, immediately summoned her carriage, and, taking 
with her Hortense and Louis Bonaparte, set out, with- 
out allowing an hour for repose, to meet her husband. 
She was very anxious to have an interview with 
him before her enemies should have an opportunity to 
fill his mind with new accusations against her. The 
most direct route from Paris to Frejus passes through 
the city of Lyons. There is another and more retired 
route, not frequently traveled, but which Napoleon, 
for some unknown reason, took. It was a long 
journey of weary, weary leagues, over hills and 
plains. Josephine alighted not for refreshment or 
slumber, but with fresh relays of horses, night and 
day, pressed on to meet her spouse. When she 
arrived at Lyons, to her utter consternation, she 
heard that Napoleon had taken the other route, and, 
some forty-eight hours before, had passed her on 
the way to Paris. No words can describe the 
anguish which these tidings caused her. Her hus- 
band would arrive in Paris and find her absent. 
He would immediately be surrounded by those who 
would try to feed his jealousy. Two or three 
days must elapse ere she could possibly retrace 
her steps. Napoleon arrived in Paris the loth of No- 
vember. It was not until nearly midnight of the 
13th that Josephine returned. Worn out with the 
fatigues of traveling, of anxiety, and of watching, she 



132 JOSEPHINE [1799 

drove with a heavy heart to their house in the Rue 
Chantereine. 

The enemies whom Josephine had most to fear 
were the brothers and the sisters-in-law of Napoleon. 
They were entirely dependent upon their illustrious 
brother for their own advancement in life, and were 
exceedingly jealous of the influence which Josephine 
had exerted over his mind. They feared that she 
would gain an exclusive empire where they wished 
also to reign. Taking advantage of Josephine's ab- 
sence, they had succeeded in rousing Napoleon's in- 
dignation to the highest pitch. They accused her 
of levity, of extravagance, of forgetfulness of him, 
and of ever playing the coquette with all the deb- 
auchees of Paris. Napoleon, stimulated by that pride 
which led the Roman Emperor to say, "Caesar's 
wife must not be suspected," theatened loudly "di- 
vorce — open and public divorce." Said one mali- 
ciously to him, "She will appear before you with all 
her fascinations, explain matters; you will forgive all, 
and tranquillity will be restored." "Never! never!" 
exclaimed the irritated general, striding to and fro 
through the room. "I forgive! never! You know 
me. Were I not sure of my resolution, 1 would 
pluck out this heart and cast it into the fire." 

Such was the mood of mind in which Napoleon 
was prepared to receive Josephine, after an absence 
of eighteen months. Josephine and Hortense alighted 



1799] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 133 

in the court-yard, and were immediately enfolded in 
tile embraces of Eugene, wlio was anxiously awaiting 
tlieir arrival. With trembling steps and a throbbing 
heart, Josephine, accompanied by her son and daugh- 
ter, ascended the stairs to a small circular family room 
where they expected to find Napoleon. He was 
there with his brother Joseph. As his wife and her 
children entered the room. Napoleon glanced sternly 
at them, and instantly said to Josephine, in a severe 
and commanding tone, almost before she had crossed 
the threshold, 

"Madame! it is my wish that you retire imme- 
diately to Malmaison." 

Josephine came near falling lifeless upon the floor. 
She was caught in the arms of Eugene, who, in the 
most profound grief, had kept near the side of his 
revered and beloved mother. He supported her faint- 
ing steps, as, sobbing with anguish, she silently re- 
tired to her apartment. Napoleon, greatly agitated, 
traversed the room with hasty strides. The sight of 
Josephine had rekindled all his love, and he was 
struggling with desperate efforts to cherish his sense 
of wrong, and to fortify himself against any return of 
clemency. 

In a few moments, Josephine and Hortense, with 
Eugene, were heard descending the stairs to leave 
the house. It was midnight. For a week Josephine 
had lived in her carriage almost without food or 



134 JOSEPHINE [1799 

sleep. Nothing but intensity of excitement had pre- 
vented her from sini^ing down in utter weariness and 
exhaustion. It was a drive of thirty miles to Mal- 
maison. Napoleon was not prepared for such prompt 
obedience. Even his stern heart could not resist its 
instinctive pleadings for his wife and her daughter. 
He hastened from nis room, and, though his pride 
would not allow him directly to urge Josephine to 
remain, he insisted upon Eugene's returning, and 
urged it in such a way that he came back, leading 
with him his mother and his sister. Napoleon, how- 
ever, addressed not a word to either of them. Jo- 
sephine threw herself upon a couch in her apartment, 
and Napoleon, in gloomy silence, entered his cabinet, 
Two days of wretchedness passed away, during 
which no intercourse took place between the es- 
tranged parties. But the anger of the husband was 
gradually subsiding. Love for Josephine was slowly 
gaining strength in his heart. On the third day, his 
pride and passion were sufficiently subdued to allow 
him to enter the apartment where Josephine and 
Hortense had kept themselves secluded, awaiting his 
pleasure. Josephine was seated at a toilet table, with 
her face buried in her hands, and absorbed in the 
profoundest grief. On the table were exposed the 
letters which she had received from Napoleon during 
his absence, and which she had evidently been read- 
ing. Hortense was standing silently and pensively in 



1799] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 135 

an alcove by the window, half concealed by the cur- 
tain. Napoleon advanced with an irresolute step, 
hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Josephine!" 
She started up at the sound of that well-known 
voice, and, her beautiful countenance all suffused 
with tears, mournfully exclaimed, " Mon ami/' in 
that peculiar tone, so pathetic, so musical, which 
ever thrilled upon the heart of Napoleon. "My 
friend" was the term of endearment with which she 
invariably addressed her husband. Napoleon was 
vanquished. He extended his hand to his deeply - 
wronged wife. She threw herself into his arms, pil- 
lowed her aching head upon his bosom, and in the 
fullness of blended joy and anguish wept convulsively. 
An explanation of several hours ensued. Every shade 
of suspicion was obliterated from his mind. He re- 
ceived Josephine again to his entire confidence, and 
this confidence was never again interrupted. 

When Napoleon landed at Frejus, he was received 
with the most enthusiastic demonstration of delight. 
There was a universal impression that the hero of 
Italy, the conqueror of Egypt, had returned thus un- 
expectedly to France for the accomplishment of some 
magnificent enterprise; yet no one knew what to an- 
ticipate. The moment the frigate dropped anchor in 
the bay, and it was announced that Napoleon was on 
board, thousands surrounded the vessel in boats, and 
the air was filled with enthusiastic acclamations. His 



136 JOSEPHINE [1799 

journey to Paris was one continued scene of triumph. 
Crowds gathered around him at every stopping-place, 
intoxicated with joy. The bells rang their merriest 
peals; the booming of cannon echoed along the hill- 
sides, and brilliant bonfires by night blazed upon 
every eminence. Upon his arrival in Paris, the sol- 
diers, recognizing their leader in so many brilliant 
victories, greeted him with indescribable enthusiasm, 
and cries of "Vive Bonaparte!" resounded through 
the metropoHs. His saloon, ever thronged with gen- 
erals and statesmen, and all who were most illustri- 
ous in intellect and rank, resembled the court of a 
monarch. Even the most prominent men in the Di- 
rectory, disgusted with the progress of measures 
which they could not control, urged him to grasp 
the reins of power, assuring him that there was no 
hope for France but in his strong arm. In less than 
four weeks from his arrival in Paris, the execrated 
government was overturned. Napoleon, Sieyes, and 
Ducos were appointed consuls, and twenty-five mem- 
bers were appointed from each of the councils to 
unite with the consuls in forming a new Constitution. 
One unanimous voice of approval rose from all parts 
of France in view of this change. No political move- 
ment could take place more strongly confirmed by 
the popular will. Napoleon hastened from the scenes 
of peril and agitation through which he had passed 
in the accomplishment of this change, that he might 



1799] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 137 

be the first to announce to Josephine the political vic- 
tory he had achieved. 

During the perilous day, when, in the midst of 
outcries, daggers, and drawn swords, he had been 
contending with the Council of the Five Hundred, he 
could find not even one moment to dispatch a note 
from St. Cloud to his wife. The previous day he 
had kept her constantly informed of the progress of 
events. Josephine remained throughout the whole of 
the 19th of November, from morning until evening, 
without sight or tidings of her husband. She knew 
that, in the fierce strife of parties in France, there 
was no safety for life; and when the darkness of 
night settled down around her, and still no word 
from her Napoleon, her anxiety amounted almost to 
distraction. The rumbling of every carriage upon the 
pavement — every noise in the streets aroused her 
hopes or her fears. Worn out with anxiety, at mid- 
night she threw herself upon her bed, but not to 
sleep. Several weary hours of suspense lingered 
slowly along, when, at four o'clock in the morning, 
she heard the well-known footsteps of her husband 
upon the stairs. 

She sprang to meet him. He fondly clasped her in 
his arms, and assured her that he had not spoken to 
a single individual since he had taken the oaths of 
office, that the voice of his Josephine might be the 
first to congratulate him upon his virtual accession to 



138 JOSEPHINE [1800 

the empire of France. An animated conversation en- 
sued, and then Napoleon, throwing himself upon his 
couch for a few moments' repose, gayly said, "Good 
night, my Josephine! to-morrow we sleep in the 
Luxembourg." 

The next day the three consuls met in Paris. His 
colleagues, however, immediately perceived that the 
towering ambition of Napoleon would brook no rival. 
He showed them the absurdity of their plans, and 
compelled them to assent to the superior wisdom of 
his own. The untiring vigor of his mind, the bold- 
ness and energy of his thoughts, and his intuitive and 
almost miraculous familiarity with every branch of 
political science, overawed his associates, and the 
whole power passed, with hardly the slightest resist- 
ance, into his own hands. Immediately after their 
first interview, the Abbe Sieyes, who combined great 
weakness with extensive knowledge, remarked to 
Talleyrand and others, "Gentlemen, I perceive that 
we have got a master. Bonaparte can do and will 
do every thing himself. But," he continued, after a 
pause, "it is better to submit than to protract dis- 
sensions forever." 

In this most astonishing revolution, thus suddenly 
accomplished, and without the shedding of a drop of 
blood. Napoleon was much indebted to the influence 
which his wife had exerted in his behalf during his 
absence in Egypt. The dinners she had given, the 



i8oo] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 139 

guests she had entertained in her saloons evening after 
evening, consisting of the most distinguished scholars, 
and statesmen, and generals in the metropolis, had 
contributed greatly to the popularity of her husband, 
and had surrounded him with devoted friends. Na- 
poleon ever acknowledged his obligations to Joseph- 
ine for the essential service she had thus rendered 
him. 

The next morning Napoleon and Josephine re- 
moved from their elegant yet comparatively plebeian 
residence in the Rue Chantereine to the palace of the 
Luxembourg. This, however, was but the stepping- 
stone to the Tuileries, the world-renowned abode of 
the monarchs of France. They remained for two 
months at the Luxembourg. The energies of Na- 
poleon were employed every moment in promoting 
changes in the internal affairs of France, which even 
his bitterest enemies admit were marked with the 
most eminent wisdom and benevolence. During the 
two months of their residence at the Luxembourg, no 
domestic event of importance occurred, except the 
marriage of Murat with Caroline, the sister of Na- 
poleon. Caroline was exceedingly beautiful. Murat 
was one of the favorite aids of Bonaparte. Their 
nuptials were celebrated with great splendor, and the 
gay Parisians began again to be amused with some- 
thing like the glitter of royalty. 

Each day Napoleon became more popular and his 



I40 JOSEPHINE [1800 

power more firmly established. Soon all France was 
prepared to see the first consul take up his residence 
in the ancient apartments of the kings of France. 
The Tuileries had been sacked again and again by 
the mob. The gorgeous furniture, the rich paintings, 
and all the voluptuous elegance which the wealth of 
Louis XIV. could create, had been thrown into the 
court-yard and consumed by the infuriated populace. 
Royalty itself had been pursued and insulted in its 
most sacred retreats. 

By slow and cautious advances, Napoleon re- 
furnished these magnificent saloons. The emblems of 
Jacobin misrule were silently effaced. Statues of Bru- 
tus and Washington, of Demosthenes, and of others 
renowned for illustrious deeds, were placed in the 
vacant niches, and the Tuileries again appeared 
resplendent as in the days of pristine pride and 
power. 

On the morning of the 19th of February, 1800, all 
Paris was in commotion to witness the transfer of 
the embryo court of the first consul and his col- 
leagues from the Luxembourg to the Tuileries. Al- 
ready the colleagues of Napoleon had become so 
entirely eclipsed by the superior brilliance of their 
imperious associate that their names were almost for- 
gotten. The royal apartments were prepared for Na- 
poleon, while those in the Pavilion of Flora were as- 
signed to the two other consuls. The three consuls 



i8oo] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 141* 

entered a magnificent carriage, drawn by six white 
horses. A gorgeous train of officers, with six thou- 
sand pici<ed troops in the richest uniform, surrounded 
the cortege. Many of the long-aboHshed usages of 
royalty were renewed upon that day. Twenty thousand 
soldiers, in most imposing military array, were drawn 
up before the palace. The moment the carriage ap- 
peared, the very heavens seemed rent with their cries, 
"Vive le premier consul!" The two associate con- 
suls were ciphers. They sat at his side as pages to 
embellish his triumph. This day placed Napoleon in 
reality upon the throne of France, and Josephine that 
evening moved, a queen, in the apartments hallowed 
by the beauty and the sufferings of Maria Antoinette. 

The suite of rooms appropriated to the wife of the 
first consul consisted of two magnificent saloons, with 
private apartments adjoining. No French monarch ever 
sauntered through a more dazzling scene than that 
which graced the drawing-rooms of Josephine on this 
occasion. Embassadors from nearly all the courts of 
Europe were present. The army contributed its ut- 
most display of rank and military pomp to embellish 
the triumph of its most successful general. And the 
metropolis contributed all that it still retained of 
brilliance in ancestral renown or in intellectual achieve- 
ment. 

When Josephine entered the gorgeously-illuminated 
apartments of the palace, leaning upon the arm of 



142 JOSEPHINE [1800 

Talleyrand, and dressed in the elegance of the most 
perfect simplicity, a murmur of admiration arose from 
the whole assembly. She was attired in a robe of 
white muslin. Her hair fell in graceful ringlets upon 
her neck and shoulders. A necklace of pearls of great 
value completed her costume. The queenly elegance 
of her figure, the inimitable grace of her movements, 
the peculiar conversational tact she possessed, and the 
melody of a voice which, once heard, never was for- 
gotten, gave to Josephine, on this eventful evening, a 
social triumph corresponding with that which Na- 
poleon had received during the day. She entered the 
rooms to welcome her guests before her husband. As 
she made the tour of the apartments, supported by 
the minister, whose commanding figure towered above 
all the rest, she was first introduced to the foreign 
embassadors, and then to others of distinguished name 
and note. "Napoleon wins battles, but Josephine wins 
hearts." This was the all-appropriate theater for the 
triumph of Josephine. Here she was entirely at home. 
Instinct taught her every thing that was graceful and 
pleasing. Etiquette, that stern tyrant so necessary 
for the control of common minds, was compelled to 
bow in subjection to Josephine, for her actions became 
a higher law. In the exuberance of benevolent joy, 
she floated through this brilliant scene, wherever she 
appeared exciting admiration, though she sought only 
to diffuse enjoyment. 



i8oo] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 143 

Josephine was now about thirty-three years of age, 
and while in personal charms she retained all the fas- 
cination of more youthful years, her mind, elevated 
and ennobled by reverses and sufferings most magnan- 
imously borne, and cultivated by the daily exercise of 
its rich endowments, enabled her to pass from the 
circles of fashion to the circles of science, from those 
who thought only of the accomplishments of the person 
to those who dwelt in the loftiest regions of the intel- 
lect, and to be equally admired by both. 

Her figure appears to have been molded into the 
absolute perfection of the female frame, neither too 
large for the utmost delicacy of feminine beauty, nor 
too small for queenly dignity. The exquisite sym- 
metry of her form and the elasticity of her step gave 
an etherial aspect to her movements. Her features, 
of Grecian outline, were finely modeled, and through 
them all the varying emotions of the soul were un- 
ceasingly beaming. No one probably ever possessed 
in a higher degree this resistless charm of feminine 
loveliness. Her eyes were of a deep blue, and pos- 
sessed a winning tenderness of expression when re- 
posing upon those she loved which could not be re- 
sisted. Napoleon, even when most agitated by the 
conflicts of his stormy life, was speedily subdued by 
the tranquilizing power of her looks of love. But the 
tone and modulations of her voice in conversation 
constituted the most remarkable attraction of this 



144 JOSEPHINE [1800 

most attractive woman. No one could listen to 
her sparkling, flowing, musical words without feel- 
ing the fascination of their strange melody. "The 
first applauses of the French people," says Napo- 
leon, "fell upon my ear sweet as the voice of 
Josephine." 

The rural charms of Malmaison, however, exerted 
a more powerful sway over both the first consul and 
his companion than the more splendid attractions of 
the Tuileries. The Revolutionary government had 
abolished the Sabbath, and appointed every tenth day 
for rest and recreation. Napoleon and Josephine habitu- 
ally spent this day at Malmaison. There, in the retire- 
ment of green fields and luxuriant groves, surrounded 
by those scenes of nature which had peculiar charms 
for them both, they found that quiet happiness which 
is in vain sought amid the turmoil of the camp or 
the splendor of the court. Josephine, in particular, 
here found her most serene and joyous hours. She 
regretted the high ambition of her husband, while, at 
the same time, she felt a wife's pride and gratifica- 
tion in view of the honors which were so profusely 
heaped upon him. It delighted her to see him heie 
lay aside the cares of state, and enjoy with her the 
unostentatious pleasures of the flower-garden and the 
farm-yard. And when the hour came for them to 
return from their rural villa to their city palace, Na- 
poleon often said, with a sigh, "Now it is neces- 



i8oo] WIFE OF FIRST CONSUL 145 

sary for us to go and put on again the yoke of 
misery." 

The dangers of greatness soon began to hover 
around the path of the first consul. Josephine was 
continually alarmed with rumors of conspiracies and 
plots of assassination. The utter indifference of Na- 
poleon to all such perils, and his entire disregard of 
all precautionary measures, only increased the anxiety 
of his wife. The road leading from Paris to Malmai- 
son wound through a wild district, then but thinly 
inhabited, and which presented many facilities for 
deeds of violence. Whenever Napoleon was about to 
traverse this road, Josephine sent the servants of their 
private establishment to scrutinize all its lurking- 
places where any foes might be concealed. Napoleon, 
though gratified by this kind care, often amused and 
good-naturedly teased Josephine with most ludicrous 
accounts of the perils and hair-breadth escapes which 
he had encountered. She also had large and power- 
ful dogs trained to guard the grounds of Malmaison 
from any intrusion by night. 

On the evening of the day when Napoleon made 
his entry into the Tuileries, he remarked to Bour- 
rienne, "It is not enough to be in the Tuileries, we 
must take measures to remain there. Who has not 
inhabited this palace? It has been the abode of rob- 
bers — of the Convention. There is your brother's 
house, from which, eight years ago, we saw the good 

M. of H.— 5— 10 



146 JOSEPHINE [1800 

Louis XVI. besieged in the Tuileries and carried off 
into captivity. But you need not fear a repetition of 
the scene. Let them attempt it ivith me if they 
dare." To ail the cautions of his anxious wife re- 
specting assassination, he ever quietly replied, "My 
dear Josephine, they dare not do it." 




CHAPTER IX. 
Developments of Character. 

Second Italian campaign. — Its brilliant results.— Napoleon's desire to leave a 
name. — A faithful correspondent. — Delicate attentions of Napoleon to 
Josephine.— Her pastimes. — Retirement at Malmaison.— Private theatric- 
als. — The game of " Prisoners." — The mode of playing it. — Napoleon's 
favorite amusement. — He is no misanthrope. — Josephine's expansive 
benevolence. — Josephine's unwearied exertions in behalf of the emi- 
grants. — The Marquis of Decrest. — Accidental death of his son. — Jo- 
sephine arrests the grief of Decrest. — Her tenderness. — The Infernal 
Machine.— Its power. — Hortense wounded. — Napoleon proceeds to the 
opera. — Narrow escape of Josephine.— Treachery of the Royalists. — 
Fouch6. — Josephine's letter to the Minister of Police. — She pleads for 
lenity in behalf of the guilty. — Character of Louis Napoleon. — He is dis- 
appointed in love. — Napoleon tries to heal the wound. — Character of 
Hortense. — She is married to I^ouis. — An uncongenial union.— Marriage 
of Duroc. — Letter from Josephine to Hortense. — She advises Hortense to 
be more kind to Louis. — Unhappy disposition of Louis. — Errors of Hor- 
tense. — Happiness to which she might have attained. — The spirit of 
Josephine. — Character of Hortense. — Calumnies against Napoleon. — 
They fail in their effect.— Unjust remarks of Hortense. — Josephine's re- 
ply. — The love of glory Napoleon's ruling passion. 

DURING Napoleon's absence in Egypt the Aus- 
trians had again invaded Italy. The French 
troops had been beaten in many battles, and 
driven from vast extents of territory, over which Na- 
poleon had caused the flag of the Republic to float in 
triumph. The first consul having, with almost super- 
human energy, arranged the internal affairs of his 
government, now turned his thoughts toward the de- 

(>47) 



148 JOSEPHINE [1800 

feated armies of France, which had been driven back 
into the fastnesses of the Alps. "I must go," said 
he, "my dear Josephine. But I will not forget you, 
and I will not be absent long." He bade adieu to 
his wife at the Tuileries on the 7th of May, 1800. At 
midnight of the 2d of July he returned, having been 
absent less than two months. In that brief period he 
drove the Austrians from all their strongholds, re- 
gained Italy, and by a campaign more brilliant than 
any other which history has ever recorded, added 
immeasurably to his own moral power. These as- 
tonishing victories excited the Parisians to a delirium 
of joy. Night after night the streets were illuminated, 
and whenever Napoleon appeared, crowds thronged 
him, fining the air with their acclamations. These 
triumphs, however, instead of satisfying Napoleon, 
did but add fuel to his all-absorbing ambition, "A 
few more great events," said he, "like those of this 
campaign, and I may really descend to posterity. 
But still it is little enough. I have conquered, it is 
true, in less than two years, Cairo, Paris, Milan. 
But, were I to die to-morrow, half a page of general 
history would, after ten centuries, be all that would 
be devoted to my exploits." 

During his absence Josephine passed her time at 
Malmaison. And it surely is indicative not only of 
the depth of Napoleon's love for Josephine, but also 
of his appreciation of those delicate attentions which 



i8oo] CHARACTER 149 

could touch the heart of a loving wife, that in this 
busiest of campaigns, in which, by day and by night, 
he was upon the horse's back, with hardly one mo- 
ment allowed for refreshment or repose, rarely did a 
single day pass in which he did not transmit some 
token of affection to Malmaison. Josephine daily 
watched, with the most intense interest the arrival of 
the courier with the brief and almost illegible note 
from her husband. Sometimes the blurred and blotted 
lines were hastily written upon horseback, with the 
pommel of his saddle for his writing-desk. Some- 
times they were written, at his dictation, by his sec- 
retary, upon a drum-head, on the field of carnage, 
when the mangled bodies of the dying and the dead 
were strewed all around him, and the thunders of the 
retreating battle were still echoing over the plains. 
These delicate attentions to his wife exhibit a noble 
trait in the character of Napoleon. And she must 
have been indeed a noble woman who could have 
inspired such a mind with esteem and tenderness so 
profound. 

Josephine employed much of her time in superin- 
tending those improvements which she thought would 
please her husband on his return; creating for him 
pleasant little surprises, as she should guide his steps 
to the picturesque walk newly opened, to the rustic 
bridge spanning the stream, to the rural pavilion, 
where, in the evening twilight, they could commune. 



ISO JOSEPHINE [1800 

She often rode on horseback with Hortense, who was 
peculiarly fond of all those pleasures which had the 
concomitants of graceful display. 

After Napoleon's triumphant return from Italy, the 
visits to Malmaison were more frequent than ever 
before. Napoleon and Josephine often spent several 
days there; and in after years they frequently spoke of 
these hours as the pleasantest they had passed in life. 
The agreeable retirement of Malmaison was, however, 
changed into enjoyment more public and social by the 
crowds of visitors with which its saloons and parks 
were filled. Josephine received her guests with re- 
publican simplicity, united with the utmost elegance. 
Her reception-room was continually thronged with the 
most distinguished officers of the government, re- 
nowned generals, and all the men most illustrious for 
birth and talent the metropolis contained. 

The circle assembled here was, indeed, a happy 
one. A peculiar bond of union existed throughout 
the whole household, for Napoleon, as well as Jo- 
sephine, secured the most devoted attachment of all 
the servants. One of their favorite amusements was 
family theatricals. Eugene and Hortense took an 
active part in these performances, in which both had 
talents to excel. 

But the favorite and most characteristic amuse- 
ment at Malmaison was the game of " Prisoners," a 
common game among the school-boys of France, 



i8oo] CHARACTER 151 

though comparatively little known in this country. 
The company is divided into two parties. Those 
who are appointed leaders choose each their respec- 
tive sides. Bounds are assigned to each party, and a 
particular point as a fortress. If any one is caught 
away from the fortress by one who left his own 
station after the captive left the hostile fort, he is a 
prisoner, and must remain at the appointed prison 
until rescued. For instance, Hortense leaves her for- 
tress, and cautiously invades the territory of the en- 
emy. Josephine darts after her, and eagerly pursues 
her over the greensward. Eugene, who remains at 
his fortress until after Josephine left hers, bounds 
after his mother. It is now her turn to flee. But 
others of her party, who have remained under the 
protection of their fortress, rush to her rescue. Eugene, 
however, succeeds in touching his mother before they 
reach him, and leads her off in triumph a prisoner. 
A tree, perhaps, at a little distance, is her prison. 
Here she must remain until rescued by a touch from 
one of her own party. But if the one who is rush- 
ing to her rescue is touched by one of the other 
party who left his fortress an instant later, another 
captive is taken to stand by her side. 

In this mimicry of war Napoleon always delighted 
to engage. After dinner, upon the lawn at Malmai- 
son, the most distinguished gentlemen and ladies, not 
of France only, but of all Europe, were often actively 



152 JOSEPHINE [1800 

and most mirthfully engaged in this sport. Kings, 
and queens, and princes of the blood royal were often 
seen upon the lawn at Malmaison pursuing and pur- 
sued. Napoleon and Josephine, and most of the 
friends who surrounded them, were in the vigor of 
athletic youth, and, in entire abandonment to the 
frolic of the hour, the air resounded with their shouts. 
It was observed that Napoleon was ever anxious to 
choose Josephine as the first on his side, and he 
seemed nervously excited, if she was taken prisoner, 
until she was rescued. He was a poor runner, and 
often fell, rolling over headlong upon the grass, while 
he and all his associates were convulsed with laughter. 
When there was no special engagement demanding 
attention, this sport often continued for hours. Na- 
poleon was often taken captive. But when Josephine 
was imprisoned, he was incessantly clapping his 
bands, and shouting, "A rescue! a rescue!" till she 
was released. A gloomy misanthrope, wrapped in 
self, could not have enjoyed these scenes of innocent 
hilarity. 

But the life of Josephine was not devoted to 
amusement. While she entered with warmth into 
these sports, being the soul of every festive party, her 
heart was consecrated to the promotion of happiness 
in every way in her power. When a child, playing 
with the little negresses of Martinique, she was adored 
as their queen. When in penury, crossing the At- 



i8oo] CHARACTER 153 

lantic, by kind sympathy manifested for the sick and 
the sorrowful, she won the hearts of the seamen. 
When a prisoner, under sentence of death, by her 
cheerfulness, her forgetfulness of self, and her hourly 
deeds of delicate attention to others, she became an 
object of universal love in those cells of despair. 
When prosperity again dawned upon her, and she 
was in the enjoyment of an ample competence, every 
cottage in the vicinity of Malmaison testified to her 
benevolence. And now, when placed in a position 
of power, all her influence was exerted to relieve the 
misfortunes of those illustrious men whom the storms 
of revolution had driven from their homes and from 
France. She never forgot the unfortunate, but de- 
voted a considerable portion of her income to the 
relief of the emigrants. She was at times accused of 
extravagance. Her nature was generous in the ex- 
treme, and the profusion of her expenditures was an 
index of her expansive benevolence. 

Napoleon, soon after he became first consul, pub- 
lished a decree, inviting the emigrants to return, and 
did what he could to restore to them their confiscated 
estates. There were, however, necessarily exceptions 
from the general act of amnesty. Cases were con- 
tinually arising of peculiar perplexity and hardship, 
where widows and orphans, reduced from opulence 
to penury, sought lost property, which, during the 
tumult of the times, had become involved in inex- 



154 JOSEPHINE [1800 

tricable embarrassments. All such persons made ap- 
plication to Josephine. She ever found time to listen 
to their tales of sorrow, to speak words of sympathy, 
and, with great soundness of judgment, to render 
them all the aid in her power. "Josephine," said 
Napoleon, in reference to these her applications for 
the unfortunate, "will not take a refusal. But, it 
must be confessed, she rarely undertakes a case which 
has not propriety, at least, on its side." The Jacobin 
laws had fallen with fearful severity upon all the 
members of the ancient aristocracy and all the friends 
of royalty. The cause of these victims of anarchy 
Josephine was ever ready to espouse. 

A noble family by the name of Decrest had been 
indebted to the interposition of the wife of the first 
consul for their permission to return to France. As 
nearly all their property had disappeared during their 
exile, Josephine continued to befriend them with her 
influence and her purse. On the evening of a festival 
day, a grand display of fire-works was exhibited on 
the banks of the Seine. A rocket, misdirected, struck 
a son of the marquis on the breast, and instantly 
killed him. The young man, who was on the eve 
of his marriage to the daughter of an old friend, 
was an officer of great promise, and the hope of the 
decHning family. His death was a terrible calamity, 
as well as a most afflictive bereavement. The father 
abandoned himself to all the delirium of inconsolable 



i8oo] CHARACTER 155 

grief, and was so utterly lost in the depths of despair, 
that it was feared his mind would never again re- 
cover its tone. The Duke of Orleans was grand-uncle 
of the young man who was killed, and Madame 
Montesson, the mother of Louis Philippe, sent for her 
distressed relatives that she might administer to their 
consolation. All her endeavors, however, were en- 
tirely unavailing. 

In the midst of this afflictive scene, Josephine 
entered the saloon of Madame Montesson. Her own 
heart taught her that in such a grief as this words 
were valueless. Silently she took by the hand the 
eldest daughter, a beautiful girl, whose loveliness 
plead loudly for a father's care, and in the other arm 
she took their infant child of fifteen months, and, 
with her own cheeks bathed in tears, she kneeled 
before the stricken mourner. He raised his eyes and 
saw Josephine, the wife of the first consul, kneeling 
before him and imploringly presenting his two chil- 
dren. He was at first astonished at the sight. Then, 
bursting into tears, he exclaimed, "Yes! I have 
much for which 1 am yet bound to live. These chil- 
dren have claims upon me, and I must no longer 
yield to despair." A lady who was present on this 
occasion says, " I witnessed this scene and shall 
never forget it. The wife of the first consul ex- 
pressed, in language which I will not attempt to imi- 
tate, all that tenderness which the maternal bosom 



156 JOSEPHINE [1800 

alone knows. She was the very image of a minister- 
ing angel, for the touching charm of her voice and 
look pertained more to heaven than to earth." Joseph- 
ine had herself seen days as dark as could lower over 
a mortal's path. Love for her children was then the 
only tie which bound her to life. In those days of an- 
guish she learned the only appeal which, under these 
circumstances, could touch a despairing father's heart. 
Several conspiracies were formed about this time 
against the life of the first consul. That of the Infer- 
nal Machine was one of the most desperate, reckless, 
and atrocious which history has recorded. On the 
evening of December 24, 1800, Napoleon was going to 
the opera. Three gentlemen were with him in his 
carriage. Josephine, with Hortense and one or two 
others, followed in another carriage. In passing from 
the Tuileries to the theater, it was necessary to pass 
through the narrow street St. Nicaire. A cart, appar- 
ently by accident overturned, obstructed the passage. 
The coachman, however, who was driving his horses 
very rapidly, crowded his way by. He had barely 
passed the cart when a terrific explosion took place, 
which was heard all over Paris. Eight persons were 
instantly killed and more than sixty wounded. Some 
of the houses in the vicinity were nearly blown down. 
The windows of both the carriages were shattered, 
and Hortense was slightly wounded by the broken 
glass. Napoleon drove on to the opera, where he 



i8oo] CHARACTER 157 

found the audience in the utmost consternation, for 
the explosion had shaken the whole city. He entered 
with a countenance as perfectly cahn and untroubled 
as if nothing unusual had occurred. Every eye was 
fixed upon him. As soon as it was perceived that 
his person was safe, thunders of applause shook the 
walls of the theater. On every side Napoleon was 
greeted with the most devoted expressions of attach- 
ment. Soon Josephine came in, pale and trembling, 
and, after remaining half an hour, they both retired to 
the Tuileries. Napoleon found the palace crowded 
with all the public functionaries of Paris, who had as- 
sembled to congratulate him upon his escape. 

The life of Josephine was saved on this occasion by 
apparently the merest accident. She had recently re- 
ceived a magnificent shawl, a present from Constan- 
tinople, and was preparing to wear it that evening for 
the first time. Napoleon, however, in playful criticism, 
condemned the shawl, remarking upon its pattern and 
its color, and commending one which he deemed far 
more beautiful, "You area bold man," said Joseph- 
ine, smiling, "in venturing to criticise my toilette. 
I shall take my revenge in giving you a lesson how 
to attack a redoubt. However," she continued, turning 
to one of her attendants, " bring me the general's 
favorite, I will wear that." A delay of a few moments 
was caused in exchanging the shawls. In the mean 
time. Napoleon, with his friends, entered his carriage 



158 JOSEPHINE [1800 

and drove on. Josephine soon followed. She had but 
just entered the street when the explosion took place. 
Had she followed, as usual, directly behind Napoleon, 
her death would have been almost inevitable. 

It was subsequently ascertained, greatly to the 
surprise of Napoleon and of all Europe, that the 
Royalists were the agents in this conspiracy. Na- 
poleon had been their benefactor, and while he knew 
it to be impossible to replace the Bourbons upon the 
throne of France, he did every thing in his power to 
mitigate the misfortunes which Jacobin violence had 
inflicted upon their friends. The first consul made 
no disguise of his utter detestation of the Jacobins, 
and of their reign of merciless tyranny. He conse- 
quently supposed that they were the authors of the 
atrocious crime. The real authors of the conspiracy 
were, however, soon discovered. Fouche, whom Bo- 
naparte disliked exceedingly for his inhuman deeds 
during the Revolution, was the Minister of Police. 
Upon him mainly devolved the trial and the punish- 
ment of the accused. Josephine immediately wrote a 
letter to Fouche, most strikingly indicative of the 
benevolence of her noble heart, and of that strength 
of mind which could understand that the claims of 
justice must not pass unheeded. 

"Citizen-Minister, — While I yet tremble at the 
frightful event which has just occurred, I am dis- 
quieted and distressed through fear of the punish- 



i8oo] CHARACTER 159 

ment necessarily to be inflicted on the guilty, who 
belong, it is said, to families with whom I once lived 
in habits of intercourse. I shall be solicited by mothers, 
sisters, and disconsolate wives; and my heart will be 
broken through my inability to obtain all the mercy 
for which I would plead. 

"I know that the clemency of the first consul is 
great, his attachment to me extreme; but the crime is 
too dreadful that terrible examples should not be 
necessary. The chief of the government has not 
been alone exposed; and it is that which will render 
him severe — inflexible. I conjure you, therefore, to do 
all in your power to prevent inquiries being pushed 
too far. Do not detect all those persons who may 
have been accomplices in these odious transactions. 
Let not France, so long overwhelmed in consternation 
by public executions, groan anew beneath such in- 
flictions. It is even better to endeavor to soothe the 
public mind than to exasperate men by fresh terrors. 
In short, when the ring-leaders of this nefarious 
attempt shall have been secured, let severity give 
place to pity for inferior agents, seduced as they may 
have been by dangerous falsehoods or exaggerated 
opinions. 

"When just invested with supreme power, the 
first consul, as seems to me, ought rather to gain 
hearts than to be exhibited as ruling slaves. Soften 
by your counsels whatever may be too violent in his 



i6o JOSEPHINE [1800 

just resentment. Punish — alas ! that you must cer- 
tainly do — but pardon still more. Be also the sup- 
port of those unfortunate men who, by frank avowal 
or repentance, shall expiate a portion of their crime. 

" Having myself narrowly escaped perishing in the 
Revolution, you must regard as quite natural my in- 
terference on behalf of those who can be saved with- 
out involving in new danger the life of my husband, 
precious to me and to France. On this account, do, 
I entreat you, make a wide distinction between the 
authors of the crime and those who, through weak- 
ness or fear, have consented to take a part therein. 
As a woman, a wife, and a mother, I must feel the 
heart-rendings of those who will apply to me. Act, 
citizen-minister, in such a manner that the number 
of these may be lessened. This will spare me much 
grief. Never will I turn away from the supplications 
of misfortune. But in the present instance you can 
do infinitely more than I, and you will, on this ac- 
count, excuse my importunity. Rely on my gratitude 
and esteem." 

Hortense was now eighteen years of age, Louis 
Napoleon, brother of the first consul, was twenty- 
four. The plan was formed by Napoleon and Joseph- 
ine of uniting them in marriage. Louis was a studi- 
ous, imaginative, pensive man, with no taste for the 
glitter and pomp of fashion, and with a decided aver- 
sion to earth's noisy ambition. He loved communing 



i8oo] CHARACTER i6i 

with his own thoughts, the fiilhng leaf, the sighing 
wind — the fireside with its bool<s, its solitude, its sa- 
cred society of one or two congenial friends. He 
belonged to that class of men, always imbued with 
deep feeling, whose happiness is only found in those 
hallowed affections which bind kindred hearts in con- 
genial pursuits and joys. As Napoleon was riding 
triumphantly upon his war-horse over the Austrian 
squadrons in Italy, achieving those brilliant victories 
which paved his way to the throne of France, Louis, 
then a young man, but nineteen years of age, met in 
Paris a young lady, the daughter of an emigrant no- 
ble, for whom be formed a strong attachment, and 
his whole soul became absorbed in the passion of 
love. Napoleon was informed of this attachment, 
and, apprehensive that the alliance of his brother 
with one of the old Royalist families might endanger 
his own ambitious projects, he sent him away on a 
military commission, and with his inflexible will and 
strong arm broke off the connection. The young 
lady was soon afterward married to another gentle- 
man, and poor Louis was plunged into depths of 
disappointment and melancholy, from whence he 
never emerged. Life was ever after to him but a 
cloudy day, till, with a grief-worn spirit, he sank into 
the grave. 

Napoleon, conscious of the wound he had inflicted 
upon his sensitive brother, endeavored, in various 

M.ofH.— 5— II 



i62 JOSEPHINE [1801 

ways, to make amends. There was very much in his 
gentle, affectionate, and fervent spirit to attract the 
tender regard of Napoleon, and he ever after mani- 
fested toward him a disposition of peculiar kindness. 
It was long before Louis would listen to the proposi- 
tion of his marriage with Hortense. His affections 
still clung, though hopelessly, yet so tenaciously to 
the lost object of his idolatry, that he could not think, 
without pain, of his union with another. More un- 
congenial nuptials could hardly have been imagined. 
Hortense was a beautiful, merry, thoughtless girl — 
amiable, but very fond of excitement and displayo In 
the ball-room, the theater, and other places of bril- 
liant entertainment, she found her chief pleasures. In 
addition to this incongruity, she was already in love 
with the handsome Duroc, the favorite aid of Napo- 
leon. It is not strange that such a young lady should 
have seen as little to fancy in the disappointed and 
melancholy Louis as he could see attractive in one 
who lived but for the pageantry of the passing hour. 
Thus both parties were equally averse to the match. 
The tact of Josephine, however, and the power of 
Napoleon combined, soon overcame all obstacles, and 
the mirth-loving maiden and the pensive scholar were 
led to their untoward nuptials. Hortense became 
more easily reconciled to the match, as her powerful 
father promised, in consequence of this alliance, to 
introduce her to seats of grandeur where all her de- 



i8oi] CHARACTER 163 

sires should be gratified. Louis, resigning himself to 
any lot in a world which had no further joy in store 
for him, suffered himself to be conducted submissively 
to the altar. 

At the fete given in honor of this marriage, the 
splendors of ancient royalty seemed to be revived. 
But every eye could see the sadness of the newly- 
married bride beneath the profusion of diamonds and 
flowers with which she was adorned. Louis Napoleon, 
the present President of the French Republic, is the 
only surviving offspring of this uncongenial union. 

The gay and handsome Duroc, who had been the 
accepted lover of Hortense, was soon after married to 
an heiress, who brought him, with an immense for- 
tune, a haughty spirit and an irritable temper, which 
embittered all his days. The subsequent life of Hor- 
tense presents one of the most memorable illustrations 
of the msufficiency of human grandeur to promote 
happiness. Josephine witnessed with intense solicitude 
the utter want of congeniality existing between them, 
and her heart often bled as she saw alienation grow- 
ing stronger and stronger, until it resulted in an en- 
tire separation. Hortense might easily have won and 
retained the affections of the pensive but warm- 
hearted Louis, had she followed the counsels of her 
noble mother. Josephine, herself the almost perfect 
model of a wife, was well qualified to give advice in 
such a case. The following letter, written to Hor- 



i64 JOSEPHINE [1801 

tense some time before her separation from Louis, 
exhibits in a most amiable light the character of 
Josephine. 

To Queen Hoj'tense. 

"What I learned eight days ago gave me the 
greatest pain. What 1 observe to-day confirms and 
augments my sorrow. Why show to Louis this re- 
pugnance ? Instead of rendering him more ungracious 
still by caprice, by inequality of character, why do 
you not rather make efforts to surmount your indif- 
ference.? But you will say, he is not amiable! All 
that is relative. If not in your eyes amiable, he may 
appear so to others, and all women do not view him 
through the medium of dislike. As for myself, who 
am here altogether disinterested, I imagine that I be- 
hold him as he is, more loving, doubtless, than lov~ 
able, but this is a great and rare quality. He is 
generous, beneficent, feeling, and, above all, an ex- 
cellent father. If you so willed, he would prove a 
good husband. His melancholy, his love of study 
and retirement, injure him in your estimation. For 
these, 1 ask you, is he to blame ? Is he obliged to 
conform his nature to circumstances ? Who could 
have predicted to him his fortune ? But, according to 
you, he has not even the courage to bear that for- 
tune. This, I believe, is an error; but he certainly 
wants the strength. With his ascetic inclinations, his 



i8oi] CHARACTER 165 

invincible desire of retirement and study, he finds 
himself misplaced in the elevated rank to which he 
has attained. You desire that he should imitate his 
brother. Give him, first of all, the same tempera- 
ment. You have not failed to remark that almost 
our entire existence depends upon our health, and 
that upon our digestion. Let poor Louis digest bet- 
ter, and you would find him more amiable. But, 
such as he is, there can be no reason for abandoning 
him, or making him feel the unbecoming sentiments 
with which he inspires you. Do you, whom I have 
seen so kind, continue to be so at the moment when 
it is precisely more than ever necessary. Take pity 
on a man who has to lament that he possesses what 
would constitute another's happiness; and, before 
condemning him, think of others who, like him, have 
groaned beneath the burden of their greatness, and 
bathed with their tears that diadem which they be- 
lieved had never been destined for their brow." 

This, surely, was admirable counsel, and, had 
Hortense followed it, she would have saved herself 
many a long year of loneliness and anguish. But the 
impetuous and thoughtless bride could not repress the 
repugnance with which she regarded the cold exterior 
and the exacting love of her husband. Louis de- 
manded from her a singleness and devotedness of 
affection which was unreasonable. He wished to 
engross all her faculties of loving. He desired that 



i66 JOSEPHINE [1801 

every passion of her soul should be centered in him, 
and was jealous of any happiness she found except- 
ing that which he could give. He was even troubled 
by the tender regard with which she cherished her 
mother and her brother, considering all the love she 
gave to them as so much withheld from him, Hor- 
tense was passionately fond of music and of painting. 
Louis almost forbade her the enjoyment of those de- 
lightful accomplishments, thinking that she pursued 
them with a heartfelt devotion inconsistent with that 
supreme love with v/hich she ought to regard her 
husband. Hortense, proud and high-spirited, would 
not submit to such tyranny. She resisted and re- 
taliated. She became, consequently, wretched, and 
her husband wretched, and discord withered all the 
joys of home. At last, the union of such discordant 
spirits became utterly insupportable. They separated. 
The story of their domestic quarrels vibrated upon the 
ear of Europe. Louis wandered here and there, joy- 
less and sad, till, weary of a miserable life, alone and 
friendless, he died. Hortense retired, with a restless 
and suffering heart, to the mountains of Switzerland, 
where, in a secluded castle, she lingered out the re- 
maining years of her sorrowful pilgrimage. It was an 
unfortunate match. Having been made, the only pos- 
sible remedy was in pursuing the course which Jo- 
sephine so earnestly recommended. Had Josephine 
been married to Louis, she would have followed the 



i8oi] CHARACTER 167 

course she counseled her daughter to pursue. She 
would have leaned fondly upon his arm in his morn- 
ing and evening walks. She would have cultivated a 
lively interest in his reading, his studies, and all his 
quiet domestic pleasures. She would, as far as pos- 
sible, have relinquished every pursuit which could by 
any possibility have caused him pain. Thus she 
would have won his love and his admiration. Every 
day her power over him would have been increasing. 
Gradually her influence would have molded his char- 
acter to a better model. He would have become 
proud of his wife. He would have leaned upon her 
arm. He would have been supported by her affection 
and her intellectual strength. He would have become 
more cheerful in character and resolute in purpose. 
Days of tranquillity and happiness would have em- 
bellished their dwelling. The spirit of Josephine! It 
is noble as well as lovely. It accomplishes the most 
exalted achievements, and diffuses the most ennobling 
happiness. There are thousands of unions as uncon- 
genial as that of Hortense and Louis. From the woes 
such unions would naturally engender there is but 
one refuge, and Josephine has most beautifully shown 
what that refuge is. Hortense, proud and high- 
spirited, resolved that she would not submit to the 
exacting demands of her husband. In her sad fate 
we read the warning not to imitate her example. 
Hortense is invariably described as an unusually 



i68 JOSEPHINE [1801 

fascinating woman. She had great vivacity of mind, 
and displayed much brilliance of conversational pow- 
ers. Her person was finely formed, and she inherited 
much of that graceful demeanor which so signally 
characterized her mother. She was naturally amiable, 
and was richly endowed with all those accomplish- 
ments which enable one to excel in the art of pleas- 
ing. Louis, more than any other of the brothers, 
most strongly resembled Napoleon. He was a very 
handsome man, and possessed far more than ordinary 
abilities. Under less untoward circumstances he 
might have been eminently happy. Few persons, 
however, have journeyed along the path of life under 
a darker cloud than that which ever shed its gloom 
upon the footsteps of Louis and Hortense. 

Among the various attempts which had been made 
to produce alienation between Napoleon and Joseph- 
ine, one of the most atrocious was the whispered in- 
sinuation that the strong affection which the first 
consul manifested for Hortense was a guilty passion. 
Napoleon exhibited in the most amiable manner his 
qualities as a father, in the frequent correspondence 
he carried on with the two children of Josephine, in 
the interest he took in their studies, and in the solic- 
itude he manifested to promote their best welfare. 
He loved Hortense as if she had been his own child. 
Josephine was entirely impregnable against any jeal- 
ousy to be introduced from that quarter, and a peace- 



i8oi] CHARACTER 169 

ful smile was her only reply to all such insinuations. 
Hortense had also heard, and had utterly disregarded, 
these rumors. The marriage of Hortense to a brother 
of Napoleon had entirely silenced the calumny, and 
it was soon forgotten. 

Subsequently, when Hortense had become entirely 
alienated from her husband, and was resolved upon 
a separation, Josephine did every thing in her power 
to dissuade her from an act so rash, so disgraceful, 
so ruinous to her happiness. She wrote to her in 
terms of the most earnest entreaty. The self-willed 
queen, annoyed by these remonstrances, and unable 
to reply to them, ventured to intimate to her mother 
that perhaps she was not entirely disinterested in her 
opposition. In most guarded terms she suggested 
that her mother had heard the groundless accusation 
of Napoleon's undue fondness, and that it was possi- 
ble that her strong opposition to the separation of 
Hortense from her husband might originate in the fear 
that Hortense might become, in some degree, her 
rival in the affections of Napoleon. Josephine very 
promptly and energetically replied, 

" You have misunderstood me entirely, my child. 
There is nothing equivocal in my words, as there can 
not exist an uncandid sentiment in my heart. How 
could you imagine that 1 could participate in opinions 
so ridiculous and so malicious ? No, Hortense, you 
do not think that I believe you to be my rival. We 



I70 JOSEPHINE [1801 

do, indeed, both reign in the same heart, though by 
very different, yet by equally sacred rights. And 
they who, in the affection which my husband mani- 
fests for you, have pretended to discover other senti- 
ments than those of a parent and a friend, know not 
his soul. His mind is too elevated above that of the 
vulgar to be ever accessible to unworthy passions. 
The passion of glory, if you will, engrosses him too 
entirely for our repose; but glory, at least, inspires 
nothing which is vile. Such is my profession of faith 
respecting Napoleon. 1 make this confession to you 
in all sincerity, that I may allay your inquietudes. 
When I recommended you to love, or, at least, not 
to repulse Louis, I spoke to you in my character of 
an experienced wife, an attentive mother, and a 
tender friend, and in this threefold relation do I now 
embrace you." 




CHAPTER X. 
The Coronation. 

Josephine and Napoleon visit lyyons.— Josephine makes new friends.— Re- 
turn to Malmaison.— Anecdote of the writing-master.— Tour of the 
northern provinces.— EJnthusiasm of the people.— Josephine ever solic- 
itous in behalf of the comfort of others.— Benevolence of Josephine's 
heart.— The Palace of St. Cloud.— Napoleon's views of Christianity.- 
Striking remarks.— Influence of Josephine in the re-establishment of 
Christianity.— Religious ceremony at NOtre Dame.— Proclamation of 
Napoleon.— Christian charity recommended.— Triumph of Christianity. 

— Madame Tallien disliked by Napoleon.— Dissipation in Paris.— Inci- 
dent at a masked ball.— Jo.sephine and Madame Tallien.— The stolen 
interview.— Eugene interrupts it.— Ouvrard.— Rumors.— Apprehension 
of Josephine.— Anecdote.— Introduction of regal state.— Napoleon and 
Josephine occupy separate apartments.- Josephine advocates the cause 
of the Bourbons.— A present.— Napoleon takes to the whip.— Accident 
resulting from his unskillfulness.— Napoleon's views of death.— Subse- 
quent change of opinion.— Remonstrances of Josephine.— Titled Ehglish- 
men in Paris.— Josephine invites them to Malmai.son.— Their reception. 

— Napoleon declared emperor. — Josephine's fears. — Grand lev6e. — 
Josephine's elevated position. — Preparations for the coronation. — 
Dress of Josephine. — Dress of Napoleon.— The imperial carriage. — 
A splendid pageant. — The throne.— Napoleon crowns himself and 
Josephine. — A touching scene.— Pious emotions of Josephine. — Im- 
patience of Napoleon.— Josephine's forebodings fulfilled. — Desires to 
forget her title.— Josephine's regrets.— Corruption of the court of 
France.— Napoleon scrupulous in forming his court.— The Duchess 
d'AiguiUon.— I^etter from Josephine to the Duchess d'Aiguillon.— Jo- 
sephine not her own mistress. 

EARi.Y in the year 1802 Josephine accompanied 
Napoleon in various excursions to distant parts 
of the empire. She went with him to Lyons 
to meet the ItaHan deputies, who had assembled there 
to confer upon him the dignity of President of the 

('70 



172 JOSEPHINE [1802 

Cisalpine republic. The entertainments in Lyons upon 
this occasion were arranged with regal magnificence. 
Josephine, by her grace and affability, secured univer- 
sal admiration, and every tongue was eloquent in her 
praises. Each succeeding month seemed now to bring 
some new honor to Josephine. Her position as wife 
of the first consul, her known influence over her 
husband, and the almost boundless popularity he had 
acquired over the minds of his countrymen, who 
were ever conducting him by rapid strides to new 
accessions of power, surrounded her with multitudes 
striving in every way to ingratiate themselves into her 
favor. 

From Lyons they returned to their beloved re- 
treat at Malmaison, where they passed several weeks. 
But place and power had already deprived them of 
retirement. Napoleon was entirely engrossed with 
his vast projects of ambition. The avenue to their 
rural mansion was unceasingly thronged with car- 
riages, and the saloon of Josephine was ever filled 
with the most illustrious guests. 

One day Josephine happened to be in the cabinet 
with her husband alone. A man, whose coat was 
much the worse for wear, and whose whole appearance 
presented many indications of the struggle with pov- 
erty, was ushered into the room. He appeared 
greatly embarrassed, and at length, with much con- 
fusion, introduced himself as the writing-master at 



i8o2] THE CORONATION 173 

Brienne who had taught the first consul hand-writing. 
"And a fine penman you made of me!" exclaimed 
Napoleon, in affected anger. "Ask my wife there 
what she thinks of my writing." The poor man 
stood trembling in trepidation, when Josephine looked 
up with one of her sweetest smiles, and said, "I as- 
sure you, sir, his letters are perfectly delightful." 
Napoleon laughed at the well-timed compliment, and 
settled upon the writing-master a small annuity for 
life. It was a noble trait in the character of the first 
consul that in his days of power he was ever mind- 
ful of those who were the friends of his early years. 
All the instructors of the school he attended at 
Brienne were thus remembered by him. 

Napoleon and Josephine now made the tour of 
the northern provinces of France. They were every 
where received with unbounded enthusiasm. The 
first consul had, indeed, conferred the greatest bless- 
ings on his country. He had effectually curbed the 
Revolutionary fury. He had established the reign 
of law. Thousands of exiles he had restored to their 
homes rejoicing. The discomfited armies of France 
he had led to new and brilliant victories. Under his 
administration every branch of business had revived. 
From every part of the empire Napoleon received the 
most enthusiastic expressions of gratitude and attach- 
ment. He now began more seriously to contemplate 
ascending the throne of France. Conscious of his 



174 JOSEPHINE [1802 

own power, and ambitious of tiie glory of elevating 
his country to the highest pinnacle of earthly great- 
ness, and witnessing the enthusiasm of admiration 
which his deeds had excited in the public mind, he 
no longer doubted that his countrymen would soon 
be ready to place the scepter of empire in his hands. 
He thought that the pear was now ripe. 

Josephine ever enjoyed most highly accompanying 
her husband on these tours, and she, on such occa- 
sions, manifested, in the most attractive manner, her 
readiness to sacrifice her own personal comfort to 
promote the happiness of others. Napoleon was in 
the habit of moving with such rapidity, and of set- 
ting out so unexpectedly upon these journeys, and he 
was so peremptory in his injunctions as to the places 
where he intended to halt, that often no suitable ac- 
commodations could be provided for Josephine and 
her attendant ladies. No complaint, however, was 
ever heard from her lips. No matter how great the 
embarrassment she encountered, she ever exhibited 
the same imperturbable cheerfulness and good humor. 
She always manifested much more solicitude in refer- 
ence to the accommodation of her attendants than for 
her own comfort. She would herself visit their apart- 
ments, and issue personal directions to promote their 
convenience. One night, just as she was about to 
retire to rest, she observed that her waiting-woman 
had but a single mattress, spread upon the floor, for 



i8o2] THE CORONATION 175 

her repose. She immediately, with her own hands, 
took from the bed destined for herself another mat- 
tress, and supplied the deficiency, that her waiting- 
woman might sleep more comfortably. Whenever 
any of her household were sick, Josephine promptly 
visited their bed-side, and with her own hands minis- 
tered to their wants. She would remember them at 
her own table, and from the luxurious viands spread 
out before her, would select delicacies which might 
excite a failing appetite. It oftened happened, in 
these sudden and hasty journeys, that, from want of 
accommodation, some of the party were compelled to 
remain in the carriages while Napoleon and Josephine 
dined. In such cases they were never forgotten. 
This was not policy and artifice on the part of Jo- 
sephine, but the instinctive dictates of a heart over- 
flowing with benevolence. 

On Napoleon's return from this tour he took pos- 
session of the Palace of St. Cloud. This was another 
step toward the throne of the Bourbons. This mag- 
nificent abode of ancient grandeur had been repaired 
and most gorgeously furnished. The versatile French, 
weary of Republican simplicity, witnessed with joy 
the indications of a return of regal magnificence. A 
decree also granted to Josephine "four ladies, to assist 
her in doing the honors of the palace." No occupant 
of these splendid saloons ever embellished them more 
richly by the display of queenly graces than did Jo- 



176 JOSEPHINE [1802 

sephine; and Napoleon, now constituted first consul for 
life, reigned witii pomp and power wliich none of his 
predecessors iiad ever surpassed. Tlie few remaining 
forms of tlie Republic rapidly disappeared. Josephine 
exerted much influence over her husband's mind in 
inducing him to re-establish the institutions of the 
Christian religion. Napoleon at that time did not pro- 
fess to have any faith in the divine origin of Chris- 
tianity. Infidelity had swept resistlessly over France, 
and nearly every man of any note in the camp and 
in the court was an unbeliever. He was, consequently, 
very bitterly opposed in all his endeavors to reinstate 
Christianity. One evening he was walking upon the 
terrace of his garden at Malmaison, most earnestly 
conversing with some influential members of the gov- 
ernment upon this subject. 

"Religion," said he, "is something which can not 
be eradicated from the heart of man. He must believe 
in a superior being. Who made all that?" he con- 
tinued, pointing to the stars briUiantly shining in the 
evening sky. "Last Sunday evening I was walking 
here alone, when the church bells of the village of 
Ruel rang at sunset. I was strongly moved, so viv- 
idly did the image of early days come back with that 
sound. If it be thus with me, what must it be with 
others? Let your philosophers answer that, if they 
can. It is absolutely indispensable to have a religion 
for the people. In re-establishing Christianity, I con- 



i8o2] THE CORONATION 177 

suit the wishes of a great majority of the French na- 
tion." 

Josephine probably had very little religious knowl- 
edge. She regarded Christianity as a sentiment rather 
than a principle. She felt the poetic beauty of its 
revelations and its ordinances. She knew how holy 
were its charities, how pure its precepts, how enno- 
bling its influences, even when encumbered with the 
grossest superstitions. She had seen, and dreadfully 
had she felt, what France was without religion — with 
marriage a mockery, conscience a phantom, and death 
proclaimed to all an eternal sleep. She therefore most 
warmly seconded her husband in all endeavors to re- 
store again to desolated France the religion of Jesus 
Christ. 

The next morning after the issuing of the procla- 
mation announcing the re-establishment of public 
worship, a grand religious ceremony took place in 
honor of the occasion in the church of Notre Dame. 
Napoleon, to produce a deep impression upon the 
public mind, invested the occasion with all possible 
pomp. As he was preparing to go to the Cathe- 
dral, one of his colleagues, Cambaceres, entered'^the 
room. 

"Well," said the first consul, rubbing his hands in 
fine spirits, "we go to church this morning; what 
say they to that in Paris?" 

"Many people," replied Cambac6rds, "propose to 

M.of H.— 5— 12 



178 JOSEPHINE [1802 

attend the first representation in order to hiss the 
piece, shouM they not find it amusing." 

"If any one takes it into his head to hiss, I shall 
put him out of the door by the grenadiers of the 
consular guard." 

"But what if the grenadiers themselves take to 
hissing like the rest?" 

"As to that I have no fear. My old mustaches 
will go here to Notre Dame just as at Cairo they 
would have gone to the mosque. They will remark 
how I do, and, seeing their general grave and decent, 
they will be so too, passing the watchword to each 
other, Decency ! ' ' 

In the noble proclamation which the first consul 
issued upon this great event, he says, "An insane 
policy has sought, during the Revolution, to smother 
religious dissensions under the ruins of the altar, 
under the ashes of religion itself. At its voice all 
those pious solemnities ceased in which the citizens 
called each other by the endearing name of brothers, 
and acknowledged their common equality in the sight 
of Heaven. The dying, left alone in his agonies, no 
longer heard that consoling voice which calls the 
Christian to a better world. God himself seemed 
exiled. from the face of nature. Ministers of the religion 
of peace ! let a complete oblivion veil over your dis- 
sensions, your misfortunes, your faults. Let the reli- 
gion which unites you bind you by indissoluble cords 



i8o2] THE CORONATION 179 

to the interests of your country. Citizens of tlie Prot- 
estant faith 1 the law has equally extended its solici- 
tude to your interests. Let the morality, so pure, so 
holy, so brotherly, which you profess, unite you all 
in love to your country and respect for its laws; and, 
above all, never permit disputes on doctrinal points to 
weaken that universal charity which religion at once 
inculcates and commands." 

This, surely, is a great triumph of Christianity. 
A man like Napoleon, even though not at the time a 
believer in its divine origin, was so perfectly satisfied 
of its beneficial influence upon mankind, that, as a 
matter of state policy, he felt compelled to reinstate 
its observances. 

Josephine cherished emotions of the deepest grati- 
tude toward all those who had proved friendly to her 
in the days of her adversity. Napoleon, with his 
strong prejudices, often took a dislike to those whom 
Josephine loved. Madame Tallien, the companion of 
Josephine in her captivity and her benefactor after 
her release, was, for some unknown reason, pecul- 
iarly obnoxious to Napoleon. She was extremely 
beautiful and very ambitious, and her exclusion from 
the splendors of the new court, now daily becoming 
more brilliant, mortified her exceedingly. Josephine 
also was greatly troubled. She could not disregard 
the will of her husband, and her heart recoiled from 
the thought of ingratitude toward one who had been 



i8o JOSEPHINE [1800 

her friend in adversity. At this time, in Paris, pleas- 
ure seemed to be the universal object of pursuit. All 
the restraints of religion had been swept away, and 
masked balls, gambhng, and every species of dissipa- 
tion attracted to the metropolis the wealthy and the 
dissolute from all parts of Europe. Napoleon never 
made his appearance in any of these reckless scenes 
of revelry. He ever was an inveterate enemy to 
gambling in all its forms, and had no relish for lux- 
urious indulgence. Josephine, however, accompanied 
by Eugene, occasionally looked in upon the dancers 
at the masked balls. On one of these occasions a 
noble lady witnessed an incident which she has re- 
corded in the following words: 

Chance rendered me witness of a singular scene 
at one of these balls. It was near two o'clock in the 
morning, the crowd immense, and the heat over- 
powering. I had ascended for a few moments to the 
apartments above, and, refreshed by the cool air, 
was about to descend, when the sound of voices in 
the adjoining room, in earnest conversation, caught 
my attention. Applying my ear to the partition, the 
name of Bonaparte, and the discovery that Josephine 
and Madame Tallien were the speakers, excited a real 
curiosity. "1 assure you, my dear Theresina," said 
Josephine, "that I have done all that friendship could 
dictate, but in vain. No later than this morning I 
made a new effort. Bonaparte would hear of noth- 



i8oo] THE CORONATION i8i 

ing. I can not comprehend what can have prejudiced 
him so strongly against you. You are the only 
woman whose name he has effaced from the list of 
my particular friends; and from fear lest he should 
manifest his displeasure directly against us have I 
now come hither alone with my son. At this moment 
they believe me sound asleep in my bed at the Tui- 
leries; but 1 determined on coming to see, to warn, 
and to console you, and, above all, to justify my- 
self." 

"My dear Josephine," Madame Tallien replied, "I 
have never doubted either the goodness of your heart 
or the sincerity of your affection. Heaven is my 
witness that the loss of your friendship would be to 
me much more painful than any dread of Bonaparte. 
In these difficult times, 1 have maintained a conduct 
that might, perhaps, render my vi:;its an honor, but 
I will never importune you to receive me without his 
consent. He was not consul when Tallien followed 
him into Egypt, when I received you both into my 
house, when 1 shared with you—." Here she burst 
into tears, and her voice became inaudible. 

"Calm yourself, my dear Theresina," Josephine 
rejoined; "be calm, and let the storm pass. 1 am 
paving the way foi a reconciliation, but we must not 
irritate him more. You know that he does not love 
Ouvrard, and it is said that he often sees you." 

"What, then," Madame Tallien replied, "because 



i82 JOSEPHINE [1800 

he governs France, does he expect to tyrannize over 
our hearts? Must we sacrifice to him our private 
friendships?" 

At that moment some one knocked at the door, 
and Eugene Beauharnais entered. "Madame," said 
he to his mother, "you have been now more than 
an hour absent. The council of ministers is perhaps 
over. What will the first consul say, should he not 
find you on his return?" The two ladies then, arm 
in arm, descended the stairs, conversing in earnest 
whispers, followed by Eugene. 

This Ouvrard, to whom allusion is made above, 
was a famous banker in Paris, of enormous wealth, 
and engaged in the most wild and extravagant spec- 
ulations. 

It now began to be rumored that Napoleon would 
soon be crowned as king. Very many of the nation 
desired it, and though there was as yet no public 
declaration, vague hints and floating rumors filled the 
air. Josephine was greatly disquieted. It seemed 
more and more important that Napoleon should have 
an heir. There was now no prospect that Josephine 
would ever become again a mother. She heard, with 
irrepressible anguish, that it had been urged upon her 
husband that the interests of France required that he 
should obtain a divorce and marry again; that alliance 
with one of the ancient royal families of Europe, and 
the birth of a son, to whom he could transmit his 



i8oo] THE CORONATION 183 

crown, would place his power upon an impregnable 
foundation. Josephine could not but perceive the 
apparent policy of the great wrong. And though 
she knew that Napoleon truly and tenderly loved her, 
she also feared that there was no sacrifice which he 
was not ready to make in obedience to the claims of 
his towering ambition. 

One day she softly entered the cabinet without be- 
ing announced. Bonaparte and Bourrienne were con- 
versing together. The day before, an article appeared 
in the Moniteur, evidently preparing the way for the 
throne. Josephine gently approached her husband, 
sat down upon his knee, affectionately passed her 
hand through his hair and over his face, and, with 
moistened eyes and a burst of tenderness, exclaimed, 
"I entreat you, mon ami, do not make yourself a 
king. It is Lucien who urges you to it. Do not even 
listen to him." 

Bonaparte, smiling very pleasantly, replied, "Why, 
my dear Josephine, you are crazy. You must not lis- 
ten to these tales of the old dowagers. But you in- 
terrupt us now. I am very busy." 

During the earlier period of Napoleon's consulship, 
like the humblest citizen, he occupied the same bed- 
chamber with his spouse. But now that more of 
regal ceremony and state was being introduced to the 
consular establishment, their domestic intercourse, to 
the great grief of Josephine, assumed more of cold 



184 JOSEPHINE [1800 

formality. Separate apartments were assigned to Jo- 
sephine at a considerable distance from those occupied 
by her husband, and it was necessary to traverse a 
long corridor to pass from one to the other. The 
chambers of the principal ladies of the court opened 
upon this corridor from the right and the left. The 
splendor with which Josephine's rooms were furnished 
was no compensation to her for the absence of that 
affectionate familiarity for which her heart ever yearned. 
She also suspected, with anguish, that this separation 
was but the prelude of the divorce she so fearfully 
apprehended. Whenever Napoleon passed the night 
in the apartment of Josephine, it was knov/n to the 
whole household. Josephine, at such times, always 
appeared at a later hour in the morning than usual, 
for they generally passed half the night in conversation. 

"1 think 1 see her still," writes one of the ladies 
of her household, "coming" in to breakfast, looking 
quite cheerful, rubbing her little hands, as she was 
accustomed to do when peculiarly happy, and apolo- 
gizing for having risen so late. On such occasions 
she was, if possible, more gracious than usual, 
refused nobody, and we were sure of obtaining every 
thing we asked, as I have myself many times expe- 
rienced." 

The Bourbons had been for some time in corre- 
spondence with Napoleon, hoping, through his agency, 
to regain the throne. He assured them that their 



i8oo] THE CORONATION 185 

restoration could not possibly be accomplished, even 
by the sacrifice of the lives of a million of French- 
men. Josephine, who had suffered so much from 
anarchy, was a decided Royalist, and she exerted all 
her powers to induce Napoleon to make the attempt 
to reinstate the Bourbons. When her friends con- 
gratulated her upon the probability that she would 
soon be Empress of France, with heartfelt sincerity 
she replied, "To be the wife of the first consul ful- 
fills my highest ambition. Let me remain so." The 
Bourbons expressed much gratitude at the time in view 
of Josephine's known intercessions in their behalf. 

About this time a serious accident happened to 
the first consul, which also exposed Josephine to 
much danger. The inhabitants of Antwerp had made 
Napoleon a present of six magnificent bay horses. 
With four of these spirited steeds harnessed to the 
carriage, Napoleon was one day taking an airing, 
with Josephine and Cambaceres, the second consul, 
in the park. Napoleon, taking a fancy to drive four 
in hand, mounted the coach-box, and Csesar, his fa- 
vorite coachman, was stationed behind. The horses 
soon discovered that they had a new and inexperi- 
enced driver, and started off at the top of their 
speed. Napoleon lost all control over them, and the 
frightened animals, perfectly ungovernable, dashed 
along the road at a fearful rate. Cassar kept shout- 
ing to Napoleon, "Keep in the middle!" Cambace- 



i86 JOSEPHINE [1800 

res, pale with fright, thrust his head out of the win- 
dow, and shouted "Whoa! whoa!" Josephine, 
greatly alarmed, sank back in her seat, and in silent 
resignation awaited the issue. As they approached 
the avenue to St. Cloud, the imperial driver had not 
sufficient skill to guide them safely through the gate- 
way. The coach struck against one of the pillars, 
and was overturned with a terrible crash. Josephine 
and Cambaceres were considerably bruised. Napoleon 
was thrown from his seat to the distance of eight or 
ten paces, and was taken up insensible. He, how- 
ever, soon recovered. On retiring at night, they 
amused themselves in talking over the misadventure. 
"Mon ami," said Josephine, laughing, "you must 
render unto Caesar the things that be Caesar's. Let 
him keep his whip. Each to his vocation." The 
conversation was continued for some time in a tone 
of pleasantry. Gradually Napoleon became more 
serious. He seemed to be reflectmg deeply, and said 
that he never before came so near to death. "In- 
deed," said he, "I was for some moments virtually 
dead. But what is death? what is death? It is 
merely a sleep without dreams." 

Such were probably, at this time, the views of 
Napoleon upon immortality. He subsequently pro- 
fessed himself a sincere believer in the divine origin 
of Christianity, and wished to die within the pale of 
the Christian Church. That mind which can contem- 



i8o2] THE CORONATION 187 

plate death with levity must be either exceedingly 
weak or hopelessly deranged. 

While nearly all who surrounded the first consul 
were contemplating with the utmost satisfaction his 
approaching elevation to the throne, the subject 
awakened in the bosom of Josephine the most agi- 
tating emotions. She saw in the splendor of the 
throne peril to her husband, and the risk of entire 
downfall to herself. "The real enemies of Bona- 
parte," said she to Roederer, "are those who put 
into his head ideas of hereditary succession, dynasty, 
divorce, and marriage." Again she is represented as 
saying, "I do not approve the projects of Napoleon. 
I have often told him so. He hears me with atten- 
tion, but I can plainly see that I make no impression. 
The flatterers who surround him soon obliterate all 
that I have said. The new honors which he will 
acquire will augment the number of his enemies. 
The generals will exclaim that they have not fought 
so long merely to substitute the family of the Bona- 
partes for that of the Bourbons." 

The peace ratified by the treaty of Amiens in 1802 
threw open the Continent to travelers from England. 
There were thousands in that country who were great 
admirers of Napoleon. The Tuileries, St. Cloud, and 
Malmaison were consequently ever thronged with 
illustrious strangers from the island with which France 
had so long been engaged in war. The celebrated 



i88 JOSEPHINE [1802 

statesman, Mr. Fox, with Lord and Lady Holland, 
Lord Erskine, and several others of the most distin- 
guished of the English nobility, were visiting Paris, 
and one morning were at a breakfast party at Ma- 
dame Recamier's. Breakfast was nearly concluded, 
when the sounds of a horseman galloping into the 
court-yard were heard. Eugene Beauharnais was im- 
mediately after announced. After a few words of 
regret expressed to the lady of the house for having 
arrived so late, he turned to Mr. Fox and said, "I 
hope, sir, soon to indemnify myself for the loss of 
your society which I have this morning sustained. I 
am commissioned by my mother to attend you to 
Malmaison. The carriages will be here in a few 
moments which are for the accommodation of you and 
your friends, when you can resolve on leaving so 
many charms as must detain you here. I shall, with 
much pleasure, act as your guide." 

The carriages of the first consul soon arrived, and 
the whole party proceeded to Malmaison. Josephine 
received her guests with that courtesy and refined 
cordiality in which she was unrivaled. Bonaparte, 
knowing the powerful influence of the illustrious Eng- 
lish statesman, was very desirous that he should re- 
ceive a favorable impression from his visit. It required 
but little effort on the part of Josephine to excel in 
the art of pleasing. She banished all parade, and re- 
ceived her guests as family friends. The day was 



i804] THE CORONATION 189 

spent at Malmaison, and Mr. Fox afterward stated 
that he retired from the visit enchanted with the ele- 
gance and grace of all that he saw and heard. 

Ten years had passed, during which France had 
been in a state of constant warfare. The short peace 
which succeeded the treaty of Amiens filled Paris 
with the best society of Europe. Extravagance and 
dissipation reigned in the metropolis. But in those 
scenes of dissipation neither Napoleon nor Josephine 
ever made their appearance. His mind was ever en- 
grossed with the magnificent plans he was forming 
and the deeds he was achieving. Josephine was 
equally engaged in watching over the interests of her 
husband, and in gaining and confirming friends to his 
cause. 

On the 1 8th of May, 1804, by a decree of the senate. 
Napoleon was declared Emperor of France. The decree 
was sent out to the various departments for the action 
of the people. The result was, that 3,572,329 voted 
in the affirmative, while but 2569 were in the nega- 
tive. A more unanimous expression of a nation's will 
history never has recorded. The day after his eleva- 
tion to the imperial throne, the emperor held a grand 
levee at the Tuileries, and Josephine, with many fears 
darkening this hour of exultation, made her first ap- 
pearance as the Empress of France. The decree 
announcing Napoleon Bonaparte to be the Emperor of 
France also declared that the imperial dignity shguld 



ipo JOSEPHINE [1804 

be hereditary in his family. The empress struggled 
against her fears, but her heart was heavy, and she 
found but little joy upon this high pinnacle of power. 
She also plainly foresaw that the throne of her hus- 
band, apparently so gorgeous and massive, was erected 
upon a very frail foundation. 

At the grand lev^e held upon this occasion, the 
assembly was the most brilliant and numerous that 
had ever yet been witnessed in Paris, '^he renown 
of Napoleon now filled the world, and noted men 
from every land thronged his saloons. Josephine 
found herself elevated to the position of the most 
illustrious of the queens of Europe. The power of 
her husband was superior to that of any of the sur- 
rounding monarchs, and she received the homage of 
all as occupying an elevation such as no queen had 
ever attained before. 

The second of December, 1804, was appointed for 
the ceremony of coronation. The pageant was to 
take place in the church of Notre Dame. The pope 
came from Rome to place the crown upon this lofty, 
though plebeian brow. For ten centuries such an 
honor had not been conferred upon any monarch. 
The day was clear and brilliant, but intensely cold. 
The venerable walls of Notre Dame had never before 
witnessed such luxury and such magnificence as was 
now displayed. Carriages glittering with gold and 
purple trappings; horses proudly caparisoned; officers 



i8o4] THE CORONATION 191 

in the richest uniforms, and in court dresses sump- 
tuously embroidered; servants in most gorgeous liv- 
eries; and a waving sea of ostrich plumes, bewildered 
the multitude with the unwonted splendor. 

The empress appeared in a robe of white satin, 
embroidered with gold, and profusely ornamented 
with diamonds. A mantle of crimson velvet, lined 
with white satin and ermine, floated over her shoul- 
ders, and golden bees were clustered over the dress. 
The coronation jewels consisted of a crown, a dia- 
dem, and a girdle. The coronation crown con- 
sisted of eight golden branches, four in imitation 
of palm, and four of myrtle leaves. The dew- 
drops glittering upon this foliage were brilliant 
diamonds. A golden-corded band surrounded the 
crown, embellished with eight very large emeralds. 
The bandeau inclosing the head glittered resplendent 
with amethysts. This was the coronation crown, 
which was used only upon state occasions. The 
diadem, which was for more ordinary service, was 
composed of four rows of pearls interlaced with dia- 
monds. In front were several very large brilliants, 
one of which weighed one hundred and forty-nine 
grains. The ceinture or girdle was of pure gold, so 
pure as to be quite elastic, embellished with thirty- 
nine rose-colored diamonds. 

Napoleon wore a close dress of white velvet, em- 
broidered in gold, with diamond buttons. His stock- 



192 JOSEPHINE [1804 

ings were of white silk. The robe and mantle were 
of crimson velvet, richly embroidered in gold and 
embellished with diamonds. Napoleon seemed to re- 
gret the vast expense attending this display, while at 
the same time he was conscious of its importance to 
impress the minds of the Parisians. The emperor 
was profuse in expenditure to promote the grandeur 
and glory of the nation, but very frugal in his per- 
sonal expenses. 

The imperial carriage, constructed expressly for 
the occasion, was the most exquisite piece of work- 
manship Parisian ingenuity could devise. It was 
drawn by eight bay horses. The paneling was en- 
tirely of glass. As the emperor and empress entered 
the carriage, they both, by mistake, sat down with 
their backs toward the horses. Josephine, immediately 
perceiving the error, lightly changed her seat, at the 
same time saying smilingly to her husband, as she 
pointed to the rich cushion at her side, "Mon ami! 
unless you prefer riding vis-a-vis, this is your seat." 
Napoleon laughed heartily at the blunder, and changed 
his seat. Double files of infantry lined the route of 
more than a mile and a half, extending from the 
Tuileries to Notre Dame. Ten thousand horsemen, 
in most gorgeous uniforms, attended the carriages. 
Half a million of spectators thronged the way, crowd- 
ing the windows and balconies, clustered upon the 
house-tops, and filling up every space from whence 



i8o4] THE CORONATION 193 

any view of the cortege could be gained. The air 
was filled with the martial strains of a thousand 
bands, with the thunders of innumerable pieces of ar- 
tillery, and with the enthusiastic acclamations of the 
vast multitude. A pageant more sublime this world 
perhaps has never witnessed. 

The throne, which was hung with crimson velvet, 
was overarched with a canopy of the same rich ma- 
terial. It was ascended by twenty-two circular steps, 
which were covered with blue cloth, studded with 
golden bees. The most illustrious officers of the em- 
pire crowded the stairs. Napoleon and Josephine sat, 
side by side, upon the throne. The religious cere- 
mony occupied nearly four hours. It was interspersed 
with the most soul-stirring music from martial bands 
and from more than three hundred vocal performers. 
When the pope was about to place the crown upon 
the brow of the emperor, Napoleon took it from him, 
and placed it, with his own hands, upon his head. 
He then took it off and crowned the empress, also 
with his own hands, fixing his eye proudly, yet most 
tenderly, upon her. The heavy crown was soon after 
laid upon a cushion, while a smaller diadem was 
placed upon the head of Josephine. She kneeled be- 
fore her illustrious consort as he placed the crown of 
France upon her brow. After remaining for a mo- 
ment in silence in the posture of prayer, with her 
hands folded over her bosom, she then gracefully 

M.ofH.-5— 13 



194 JOSEPHINE [1804 

rose, her eyes swimming in tears, and turned to her 
husband with a look of gratitude and of love which 
the emperor feeUngly recognized. It was a touching 
scene, and in that moment were clustered the memo- 
ries of years. 

But the day was not without its moments of an- 
guish for Josephine. In the brief speech which the 
emperor made upon the occasion, he said, "Afv de- 
scendants will long sit upon this throne." These 
words were as a dagger to the heart of the empress. 
She knew Napoleon's intense desire for an heir. She 
knew how strong the desire in France was that he 
should have a son to whom to transmit his throne. 
She knew how much had been said respecting the 
necessity of a divorce. The most infamous proposals 
had been urged upon her by pretended friends, even 
by one of the brothers of Napoleon, that she might, 
by unfaithfulness to him, obviate the necessity of Na- 
poleon's seeking another bride. This sentiment, ut- 
tered upon the day of coronation, filled her heart with 
fear and anguish. 

The shades of evening had fallen upon the swarm- 
ing city, and all the streets of the metropolis and the 
broad facade of the Tuileries were glittering with 
illuminations when the emperor and empress returned 
to the palace. Josephine, overcome with the conflict- 
ing emotions which the day had excited, retired to 
her apartment, and, falling upon her knees, with 



i8o4] THE CORONATION 195 

tears implored the guidance of the King of kings. 
Napoleon hastened to his room, exclaiming impa- 
tiently to an attendant as he entered, "Off, off with 
these confounded trappings 1" He threw the mantle 
into one corner of the room, and the gorgeous robe 
into another, and, thus violently disencumbering him- 
self, declared that hours of such mortal tediousness 
he had never encountered before. 

Josephine, in her remonstrances with Napoleon 
against assuming the crown, predicted, with almost 
prophetic accuracy, the consequences which would 
ensue. "Will not your power," she wrote to him, 
"opposed, as to a certainty it must be, by the neigh- 
boring states, draw you into a war with them ? This 
will probably end in their ruin. Will not their 
neighbors, beholding these effects, combine for your 
destruction ? While abroad such is the state of things, 
at home how numerous the envious and discon- 
tented! How many plots to disconcert, and how 
many conspiracies to punish." 

Soon after the coronation, Josephine was one morn- 
ing in her garden, when an intimate friend called to see 
her. She saluted the empress by the title of Your 
Majesty. "Ah!" she exclaimed, in tones deeply 
pathetic, "I entreat that you will suffer me, at least 
here, to forget that I am an empress." It is the un- 
varying testimony of her friends, that, while she was 
receiving with surpassing gracefulness the congratula- 



196 JOSEPHINE [1804 

tions of France and of Europe, her heart was heavy. 
She clearly foresaw the peril of their position, and 
trembled in view of an approaching downfall. The 
many formal ceremonies which her station required, 
and upon which Napoleon laid great stress, were ex- 
ceedingly irksome to one whose warm heart rejoiced 
in the familiarity of unrestrained friendship. She thus 
described her feelings: "The nearer my husband ap- 
proached the summit of earthly greatness, the more 
dim became my last gleams of happiness. It is true 
that I enjoyed a magnificent existence. My court was 
composed of gentlemen and ladies the most illustrious 
in rank, all of whom were emulous of the honor of 
being presented to me. But my time was no longer 
at my command. The emperor was receiving from 
every part of France congratulations upon his acces- 
sion to the throne, while 1 myself sighed in contem- 
plating the immense power he had acquired. The 
more I saw him loaded with the gifts of Fortune, the 
more I feared his fall." 

The court of France had for ages been the scene 
of the most voluptuous and unblushing vice. The 
whole nation had been corrupted by its influence. 
Dissipation had been rendered attractive by the grace 
with which it had been robed. The dissolute manners 
which had prevailed at Versailles, the Tuileries, and 
St. Cloud no pen can describe. Napoleon determined 
that, at all hazards, his court should be reputable at 



i8o4] THE CORONATION 197 

least in outward morality. He was more scrupulous 
upon this point even than Josephine herself. Believ- 
ing that the downfall of the Bourbons was caused, in 
no inconsiderable degree, by the dissolute lives of the 
nobles and the courtiers, he would give no one an 
appointment among the royal retinue whose character 
Was not, in his judgment, above reproach. 

The Duchess d'Aiguillon had been a fellow-captive 
of Josephine, and, after their liberation from prison, 
had greatly befriended her. During the license of those 
times, in which all the restraints of Christian morality 
had been swept away, her character had not remained 
perfectly spotless. She and her husband had availed 
themselves of the facile liberty of divorce which the 
laws had encouraged, and had formed other unions. 
Josephine felt grateful for the many favors she had 
received from the duchess, and wished to testify this 
gratitude by receiving her at court. Napoleon peremp- 
torily refused. Josephine wrote to her in the follow- 
ing terms: 

"My dear Friend, — I am deeply afflicted. My 
former friends, supposing that I am able to obtain the 
fulfillment of all my wishes, must suppose that 1 have 
forgotten the past. Alas! it is not so. I remember 
it too well, and my thoughts dwell upon it more than 
I would have them. The more I think of what my 
friends did for me, the greater is my sorrow at being 
unable to do now what my heart dictates. The Em- 



198 JOSEPHINE [1804 

press of France is but the first slave in the empire, 
and can not pay the debts of Madame de Beauharnais. 
This constitutes the torture of my life, and will explain 
why you do not occupy a place near me. The em- 
peror, indignant at the total disregard of morality, 
and alarmed at the progress it might still make, is 
resolved that the example of a life of regularity and 
of religion shall he presented in the palace where he 
reigns. Desirous of strengthening more and more the 
Church re-established by himself, and unable to change 
the laws appointed by her observances, his intention 
is, at least, to keep at a distance from his court all 
who may have availed themselves of the opportunity 
for a divorce. Hence the cause of his refusing the 
favor I asked of having you with me. The refusal 
has occasioned me unspeakable regret, but he is too 
absolute to leave even the hope of seeing him retract. 
I am thus constrained to renounce the pleasure I had 
promised myself of being constantly with you, study- 
ing to make you forget the sovereign in the friend. 
Pity my lot in being too public a personage to follow 
my own inclination, and cherish for me a friendship, 
the remembrance of which gives me now as much 
pleasure as its reality afforded consolation in prison. 
Often do I regret that small, dark, and dismal cham- 
ber which we shared together, for there, at least, I 
could pour out my whole heart, and was sincerely 
beloved in return." 



CHAPTER XI. 

Josephine an Empress. 

Coronation fCtes.— Ascent of a balloon.— The Italians petition Napoleon to be 
their king, — Crossing the Alps. — Happiness of Josephine. — Views from 
the Alps. Splendid f6te on the field of Marengo. — A sublime spectacle. — 
Triumphal entry inio Milan.— The coronation. — Napoleon again crowns 
himself and Jo.sephine. — Entertainments at Milan. — Anecdote. — Recep- 
tion at Genoa. — A floating garden.— A gorgeous spectacle.— Josephine's 
obedience to Napoleon. — Difficult road through the forest of Ardennes. 
— Josephine receives a lecture. — Her mind well .stored.— Her kindness 
to her attendants. — Visits the bath at Aix. — Josephine and her ladies 
proceed on foot to vi.sit the model of Paris. — Enthusiasm of the people. 

— The party return on foot. — Josephine's candor. — Fond of breakfast- 
ing in the open air.— The presentation.— Josephine's maternal sensi- 
tiveness.— An expensive compliment.— A delightful excursion.— Per- 
sonal habits of Napoleon.— He sleeps on the field of battle— Napoleon's 
wonderful mental activity.— Retirement at Malmaison.— Anecdote.— 
Instructions to a lady respecting etiquette.— The court at Cologne.— £« 
■pirouette. — h.n amusing misunderstanding. — Josephine accused of 
extravagance.— Josephine is charged by Napoleon with indiscretion. — 
The explanation. — Marriage of Eugene. — Happiness of Josephine. — 
Josephine universally beloved. — Her habit of journalizing.- Beautiful 
extract from one of her journals. — Ferdinand of Spain. — A picturesque 
scene. — Routine of life. — Account thereof by a valet de chambre. — 
Morning occupations. — I,iterary enjoyments.— Confidential interviews. 

— The drive. — Dressing for dinner. — Recreations of Napoleon. — The 
dinner hour. — Dining in state. — Evening parties. — Josephine's love of 
solitude. — Hunting parties. — The protected stag. — I,etter from Joseph- 
ine to Caroline. — Josephine's desire to accompany Napoleon. — Anec- 
dote.— Visit to Spain.— Napoleon's star. — Energy of Napoleon. — The 
Spanish campaign.— Josephine left at St. Cloud. — Enthusiastic g^reeting 
of Napoleon. — Wonderful success of Napoleon. — Alliance against him. 

— His indignation roused. — Austria violates the treaty. — Promptness of 
Josephine — Kindness of Napoleon. — Their route. — Effects of the con- 
scription. — Napoleon encourages marriages. — The battle at Ulm. — Na- 
poleon's advice to the Emperor of Austria. — His march down the 
Danube. — Anxiety of Josephine.— Arrival of a courier. — His utter ex- 
haustion.— Battle of Auslerlitz. — Moustache the Mameluke. — Sensitive- 
ness of Napoleon. — His unreasonable anger. — Arrival of Josephine. — 
Napoleon's confession. — The reconciliation. — Napoleon's taste for 
dress. — The young sailor.— His fearlessness. — Napoleon's magnanimity. 

(>99i) 



200 JOSEPHINE [1805 

DURING the whole month succeeding the cor- 
onation, Paris was surrendered to fetes, illu- 
minations, and all manner of public rejoic- 
ing. One morning the empress found in her apart- 
ment, as a present from the municipality of the 
capital, a toilet service, with table, ewer, and basin 
of massive gold, wrought with most exquisite work- 
manship. An enormous balloon, in the form of the 
imperial crown, brilliantly illuminated, was launched, 
the evening of the coronation, from Paris. The vast 
structure, weighing five hundred pounds, floated most 
majestically over the city, for a time the object of the 
gaze of a million of eyes, till, borne away by the 
wind toward the south, it disappeared. The next 
evening it fell near the city of Rome, nine hundred 
miles from Paris. "Sire," said a courtier, announcing 
the fact to Napoleon, "your imperial crown has ap- 
peared in the two great capitals of the world within 
the space of twenty-four hours." 

As soon as Napoleon was crowned Emperor of 
France, the senators of the Italian Republic, over 
which he had been elected president, sent an earnest 
petition that he would be crowned their king at Mi- 
lan. Napoleon had rescued them from the hated do- 
minion of the Austrians, and they regarded him as 
their greatest benefactor. The emperor was in the 
habit of setting out on his various tours without any 
warning. One evening, when the festivities of the bap- 



i805] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS aoi 

tism of the second son of Hortense had been kept up 
until midnight, Napoleon said quietly, upon retiring, 
"Horses at six for Italy." Josephine accompanied her 
husband upon this tour. The road bridging the Alps, 
which Napoleon subsequently constructed, was then but 
contemplated. It was only by a rugged and dangerous 
footpath that the ascent of these awful barriers of nature 
could be surmounted. Two beautiful sedans had been 
constructed in Turin for the emperor and empress. 
The one for Napoleon was lined with crimson silk, 
richly ornamented with gold. Josephine's was trimmed 
with blue satin, similarly ornamented with silver. 
The sedans were, however, but little used, except in 
places where walking was dangerous, as the empress 
very much preferred leaning upon the arm of her 
husband, and, in conversation with him, gazing upon 
the wild sublimities with which they were surrounded. 
This must have been to Josephine, independently of 
those inward anxieties which weighed so heavily upon 
her heart, as delightful a journey as a mortal can en- 
joy. All Europe was bowing in homage before her 
illustrious husband. He was in the possession of 
power such as the proudest of the Csesars might have 
envied. Illuminations, and triumphal arches, and en- 
thusiastic acclamations met them every step of the 
way. Josephine was in the possession of every 
possible acquisition earth could give to make her 
happy, save only one — her husband was not a father. 



202 JOSEPHINE [1805 

But Josephine forgot her solicitudes in the exultant 
hours when her husband, from the pinnacles of the 
Alps, pointed out to her the glories of sunny Italy — 
the scenes of past perils, and conflict, and renown — 
the fields in which he had led the armies of France 
to the most brilliant victories. Napoleon was in fine 
spirits, and in these gilded hours he looked lovingly 
upon her, and they both were truly happy. It is dif- 
ficult for the imagination to conceive any thing more 
attractive for a warm-hearted and an enthusiastic 
woman than to pass over these most sublime of the 
barriers of nature, with Napoleon for a guide and a 
confiding friend. Pope Pius VII., who had formed a 
very strong friendship for Josephine, accompanied 
them as far as Turin. When parting, the empress 
made him a present of a beautiful vase of Sevres 
china, embellished with exquisite paintings of the 
coronation. 

From Turin Napoleon took Josephine to the field 
of Marengo. He had assembled upon that great 
battle plain, which his victory has immortalized, 
thirty thousand troops, that Josephine might behold 
in the mimicry of war, the dreadful scenes which had 
deluged those fields in blood. It was the fifth of 
May, and a bright Italian sun shone down upon the 
magnificent pageant. A vast elevation was con- 
structed in the middle of the plain, from which, 
seated upon the lofty throne, the emperor and em- 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 203 

press overlooked the whole field. Napoleon decorated 
himself upon the occasion with the same v/ar-wprn 
garments — the battered hat, the tempest-torn cloak, 
the coat of faded blue, and the long cavalry saber 
which he had worn amid the carnage and the terror 
of that awful day. Many of the veterans who had 
been engaged in the action were present. Napoleon 
and Josephine came upon the ground in a magnifi- 
cent chariot drawn by eight horses. The moment 
he appeared upon the plain, one general shout of 
acclamation from thirty thousand adoring voices 
rent the sky. After the mimic battle was ended, 
the soldiers defiled before the emperor and empress, 
while he conferred, upon those who had signalized 
themselves in the day of Marengo, the decorations 
of the Legion of Honor. The gorgeous uniform of 
the men, the rich caparisons and proud bearing of 
the horses, the clangor of innumerable trumpets and 
martial bands, the glitter of gold and steel, the deaf- 
ening thunders of artillery and musketry, filling the 
air with one incessant and terrific war; the dense 
volumes of sulphurous smoke rolling heavily over 
the plain, shutting out the rays of an unclouded sun, 
all combined to produce an effect upon the spectators 
never to be effaced. 

On the eighth of May, 1805, they made their tri- 
umphal entry into the city of Milan. While the whole 
city was absorbed in those fetes and rejoicings which pre- 



204 JOSEPHINE [1805 

ceded the coronation, the inexhaustible mind of Napoleon 
was occupied in planning those splendid public build- 
ings and those magnificent improvements which still 
commemorate the almost superhuman energy of his 
reign. The iron crown of Charlemagne, which for a 
thousand years had pressed no brow, was brought 
forth from its mausoleum to add the attraction of deep 
poetic sentiment to the coronation. The ceremony 
took place on the ?:wenty-sixth of May, in the Cathe- 
dral of Milan. The coronation was conducted with 
magnificence not even surpassed by the ceremony in 
N6tre Dame. The empress first made her appearance, 
most gorgeously dressed, and glittering with dia- 
monds. She was personally loved by the Milanese, 
and was greeted with the most enthusiastic acclama- 
tions. A moment after, the emperor himself entered, 
by another door. He was arr-^.yed in imperial robes 
of velvet, purple, and gold, with the diadem upon his 
brow, and the iron crown and scepter of Charlemagne 
in his hands. Napoleon, as in the coronation at Paris, 
refused to receive the crown from the hands of another, 
but placed it himself upon his head, repeating aloud 
the historical words, "God has given it to me; woe 
to him who touches it." Josephine then knelt upon 
an altar at his feet, and was again crowned by her 
husband. 

Josephine remained with the emperor in Milan for 
nearly a month. He was busy night and day in com- 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 205 

mencing improvements of the most majestic character. 
The Italians still look back to the reign of Napoleon 
as the brightest period in their history. The gay 
Milanese surrendered themselves, during his stay, to 
one continued scene of festivity. One day Josephine 
and Napoleon had broken away from courtiers and 
palaces, and ail the pageantry of state, and had re- 
treated for a few hours to the retirement and solitude 
of a beautiful little island in one of the lakes in that 
vicinity. They entered the cabin of a poor woman. 
She had no idea of the illustrious character of her 
guests, and, in answer to their kind inquiries, opened to 
them the story of her penury, her toils, and her anxiety 
to bring up her three children, as the father often 
could obtain no work. "Now how much money, my 
good woman," inquired Napoleon, "would you like 
to have to make you perfectly happy?" "Ah! sir," 
she replied, "a great deal of money I should want." 
" But how much should you desire if you could have your 
wish." "Oh, sir, 1 should want as much as twenty 
louis (about eighty dollars); but what prospect is there 
of our ever having twenty louis?" The emperor 
poured into her lap three thousand francs (about six 
hundred dollars) in glittering gold. For a few mo- 
ments she was speechless in bewilderment; at length, 
trembling with emotion, she said, "Ah! sir — ah! 
madame, this is a great deal too much. And yet you 
do not look as if you could sport with the feelings of 



2o6 JOSEPHINE [1805 

•a poor woman." "No!" Josephine replied, in the 
most gentle accents, "The money is all yours. With 
it you can now rent a piece of ground, purchase a 
flock of goats, and I hope you will be able to bring 
up your children comfortably." 

From Milan the emperor and ernpress continued 
their tour to Genoa. The restless mind of Napoleon 
was weary even of the swiftest speed of the horses, 
and though they drove from post to post with the 
utmost possible rapidity, so that it was necessary 
continually to throw water upon the glowing axle, 
he kept calling from his carriage, "On! on! we do 
not go fast enough." Their reception at Genoa was 
unequaled by any thing they had before witnessed. 
In the beautiful bay a floating gaiden of orange-trees 
and rare plants and shrubbery was constructed in 
honor of Josephine. In the principal church of "Genoa 
the Superb," the emperor and empress received 
the allegiance of the most prominent inhabitants. 
The fetes on this occasion almost surpassed the crea- 
tions of fancy. The senses were bewildered by the 
fairy illusions thrown around the gorgeous spectacle. 
The city, with all its picturesque beauty of embattled 
forts and craggy shores — the serenity and brilliance 
of Italian skies in May — the blue expanse of the 
Mediterranean — the marble palaces and glittering 
domes which embellished the streets — the lovely bay 
whitened with sails — all combined to invest the gor- 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 207 

geous spectacle with attractions such as are rarely 
witnessed. From Genoa they proceeded to Paris, 
every where accompanied by the thunders of artillery 
and the blaze of illuminations. 

Josephine was not unfrequently under the neces- 
sity of taking journeys unaccompanied by the em- 
peror. On such occasions the tireless mind of 
Napoleon arranged every particular with the utmost 
precision. A manuscript was placed in her hand, 
describing the route she was to take, the places at 
which she was to stop, the addresses or replies she 
was to make to public functionaries, the expenses 
she was to incur, and even the presents she was to 
make. On such excursions, Josephine every morning 
most carefully studied her lesson for the day. She 
took great pleasure in obeying his directions exactly, 
exposing herself to great inconveniences rather than 
to allow herself to deviate in the slightest particular 
from the written directions. She was ever unwilling 
to hsten to any suggestions for change. A very in- 
teresting illustration of her scrupulous adherence to 
manuscript instructions occurred in her journey to 
Liege. 

Napoleon, in the directions given to Josephine, 
had marked out her route by a road through the 
forest of Ardennes. Napoleon had ordered that road 
to be constructed, and supposed that it was com- 
pleted. It was, however, only partially made, and it 



ao8 JOSEPHINE [1805 

was considered quite unsafe to attempt to pass over 
it with carriages. She inquired if it were possible to 
pass. Being told that it was possible, perhaps, but 
that the attempt would be attended with great diffi- 
culty and danger, she replied, "Very well, then; we 
will at least try." Some of the ladies accompanying 
her entreated her to take another route, "No," she 
replied; "Napoleon has requested me to take this 
road, and his wishes are my law." Josephine per- 
severed in the attempt, and accomplished the passage 
through, though with very great difficulty. In many 
places the workmen on the road had to support the 
carriages with ropes and poles to prevent an over- 
turn. It rained during much of the journey, Josephine 
and her ladies were often compelled to alight, and to 
walk for some distance nearly ankle deep in mud and 
water. Josephine endured all with the utmost good 
nature. She was cheered by the assurance that she 
was following the wishes of her husband. Many of 
her attendants, however, were excessively annoyed by 
the hardships they encountered. The carriage of the 
first femme-de-chambre was actually overturned, and 
the irritated serving-woman could not restrain her 
expressions of impatience and displeasure. At last 
one of the distinguished ladies of the court took it 
upon herself to lecture the empress so roundly for 
her blind subservience to the directions of Napoleon, 
that Josephine burst into tears. 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 209 

Josephine, by conversation, observation, and read- 
ing, was continually storing her mind with valuable 
information. In the various journeys she took, she 
was always accompanied by persons of intelligence, 
and who were well acquainted with the country. 
While traveling, she directed her conversation almost 
exclusively upon the scenes through which they were 
passing. Every thing of interest was carefully treas- 
ured up in her memory, and if she learned any inci- 
dent connected with the past fortunes of any of the 
families of the ladies who were with her, she never 
failed to send a special messenger with the informa- 
tion, and to point out the places where such inci- 
dents occurred. She seemed thus to be continually 
studying for opportunities of manifesting kind and 
delicate attentions to the ladies of her household. 
She thus secured a universality and a fervor of affec- 
tion such as has rarely been attained. On these 
pleasure excursions, the restraints of the court were 
laid aside, and there were all the joyous commingling 
and affectionate familiarity which prevail among inti- 
mate friends. 

Napoleon, aware of the vast influence which the 
pomp of regal state exerts upon the human mind, 
was very particular in his court in the observance of 
all the etiquette of royalty. Josephine, however, was 
always disposed to escape from the exactions of the 
code ceremonial whenever she could do so with pro- 

M. of H.— 5— 14 



aio JOSEPHINE [1805 

priety. A curious instance of this occurred at Aix la 
Chapelle, where the empress was passing a few days 
for the benefit of the baths. One evening she was 
sitting, with her ladies around her, weary of the las- 
situde of a fashionable watering-place, when some 
one suggested that, to while away an hour, they 
should visit a celebrated model of Paris, which was 
then on exhibition. The chevalier of honor was 
about to order the imperial carriages and the cortege, 
when Josephine, to his utter consternation, proposed 
that they should go on foot. She was sure, she 
said, that the citizens of Aix la Chapelle were so 
kindly disposed toward her, that there could be no 
possible danger. The chevalier, as far as he dared to 
do, urged his remonstrances against such a breach of 
imperial decorum; but the ladies of the court were 
all delighted with the plan of Josephine, and they set 
out on foot, a brilliant party of ladies and gentlemen, 
to visit the exhibition. As the citizens, of course, 
knew nothing about this unexpected movement, there 
was no crowd in the streets to impede their way, and 
they proceeded without any difficulty, and very 
pleasantly, to the place of their destination. But the 
intelligence of the adventure of the court, so novel 
and so unprecedented, was immediately noised 
throughout the town. From every section of the 
city, throngs, allured by curiosity and love for Jo- 
sephine, began to pour into the streets through 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 211 

which they were to pass to see them return. The 
citizens occupying the dwellings and the shops 
which lined the streets, instantly, and as if by magic, 
illuminated their windows, A thousand hands were 
busy in the eager and love-incited toil. The party 
spent an hour examining the beautiful model of the 
metropolis, and then emerged again into the street. 
To their surprise, and not a little to their consterna- 
tion, they found their path blazing with illuminations. 
Their whole route was filled with a dense throng 
of men, women, and children, all eager to catch a 
glimpse of their beloved empress, and of the brilliant 
suite which accompanied her. 

The ladies recoiled from attempting the passage on 
foot through such a crowd, and proposed sending for 
the carriages and escort. Josephine, apprehensive that 
some accident might occur in attempting to drive the 
horses through such a dense mass of people, would 
not listen to the suggestion. " Were any one to be 
injured," she said, "of these friends whom our im- 
prudence has assembled, I never could forgive my- 
self." Taking the arm of the chevalier, she led the 
way through the crowd. The ladies all followed, each 
supported by the arm of some nobleman of the court. 
The populace respectfully opened before them, and 
closed up behind. The plumes, and diamonds, and 
gay attire of the court shone brilliantly in the blaze of 
light which was shed upon them from the illuminated 



212 JOSEPHINE [1805 

windows. The enthusiastic acclamations of the pop- 
ulace greeted the empress until she arrived, in perfect 
safety, at her residence. As soon as she entered her 
saloon, with her accustomed frankness she thanked 
the chevalier for the advice which he had given, and 
confessed that, in not following it, she had been 
guilty of imprudence, which might have been at- 
tended by very serious consequences. 

When traveling unaccompanied by the emperor, 
she was fond of breakfasting in the open air, upon 
some green lawn, beneath the shade of venerable 
trees, or upon some eminence, where her eye could 
feast upon the sublimities of Nature, which are so at- 
tractive to every ennobled mind. The peasantry, from 
a respectful distance, would look upon the dazzling 
spectacle perfectly bewildered and awe-stricken. The 
service of silver and of gold, the luxurious viands, 
the gorgeous display of graceful female attire, and 
uniforms and Hveries, all combined to invest the 
scene, in their eyes, with a splendor almost more 
than earthly. 

On one occasion, a mother's love and pride triumphed 
over even her scrupulous obedience to the wishes of 
Napoleon. Napoleon and Josephine, accompanied by 
Eugene and a very magnificent retinue, were at May- 
ence. There was to be a grand presentation of the 
German princes to the emperor and empress. Eu- 
gene, the son of the empress, according to the laws 



1805] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 213 

of court etiquette, should have been included with 
Napoleon and Josephine in the presentation. By 
some oversight, his name was omitted. As Josephine 
glanced her eye over the programme, she noticed the 
omission, and pointed it out to Napoleon. As the 
arrangements had all been made by him, he was not a 
little piqued in finding himself at fault as to a point of 
etiquette, and insisted upon following the programme. 
Josephine, ever ready to make any personal sacrifice 
to meet the wishes of Napoleon, could not be in- 
duced to sacrifice the sensitive feelings of her son. 
■"I had no desire," she said, "for the honors of cor- 
■onation; but, since I have been crowned, my son 
must be treated as the son of an empress." Napoleon 
yielded, not, however, with very good grace. 

Two of the princesses of Baden, on this occasion, 
accompanied Josephine to the opera. The evening air 
^was chilly, and the empress, observing that they 
were very thinly clad, spread over the shoulders of each 
of them one of her rich white Cashmere shawls. 
These shawls were of the most costly texture, and 
had been purchased at an expense of several thousand 
dollars. The next morning the elder of the princesses 
sent a note, full of complimentary terms, to Joseph- 
ine, expressing their infinite obligation for her kind- 
ness, and stating that they would keep the shawls in 
remembrance of one they so greatly admired. 

On these journeys Napoleon was full of pleasantry, 



214 JOSEPHINE [1805 

and very agreeable. Josephine often spoke of this 
excursion to Mayence in particular as the most de- 
lightful that she had ever made with the emperor. 
They were met at every step on their route with the 
most enthusiastic testimonials of a nation's love and 
gratitude. And Napoleon had at this time conferred 
benefits upon France which richly entitled him to all 
this homage. In subsequent years, when intoxicated 
by the almost boundless empire he had obtained, and 
when, at a still later period, he was struggling, with 
the energies of despair, against Europe, in arms to 
crush him, he resorted to acts which very consider- 
ably impaired his good name. Josephine, in her jour- 
nal during this journey, speaks of the common, but 
erroneous impression, that Napoleon could work con- 
stantly and habitually with very few hours devoted 
to sleep. She says that this was an erroneous im- 
pression. If the emperor rose at a very early hour 
in the morning, he would frequently retire at nine 
o'clock in the evening. And when, on extraordinary 
occasions, he passed many nights together in almost 
sleepless activity, he had the faculty of catching short 
naps at intervals in his carriage, and even on horse- 
back. After many days and nights of preparation for 
some great conflict, he has been known even to fall 
asleep upon the field of battle, in the midst of all the 
horrors of the sanguinary scene. At the battle of 
Bautzen, for instance, Napoleon was extremely fa- 



i8o5l JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 215 

tigued by the exertions and sleeplessness^ of the two 
preceding days and nights. He fell asleep several 
limes when seated on an eminence, overlooking the 
field of battle, and which was frequently reached by 
the cannon balls of the enemy. Napoleon, at St. 
Helena, when alluding to this fact, said that Nature 
had her rights, which could not be violated with im- 
punity; and that he felt better prepared to issue fresh 
orders, or to consider the reports which were brought, 
when awakening from these momentary slumbers. 
Though Napoleon could not set at defiance the es- 
tablished laws of our mental and physical nature, 
words can hardly convey an adequate idea of the 
indefatigable activity of his mind, or of his extraordi- 
nary powers of enduring mental and bodily fatigue. 
Few have ever understood better the art of concentrat- 
ing the attention upon one thing at a time. Often, on 
his campaigns, after reading the dispatches, and dictat- 
ing orders to one set of secretaries during the whole 
day, he would throw himself, for an hour, upon his 
sofa, instantly fall into the soundest sleep, and then, 
summoning to his presence a new relay of secretaries, 
would keep them incessantly occupied till morning. 
To keep himself awake on such occasions, he resorted 
to strong coffee. It was only under the pressure of 
great necessity that he thus overtasked his Herculean 
powers. 

Occasionally, when Napoleon was absent on his 



2i6 JOSEPHINE [1805 

campaigns, Josephine would retire to Malmaison, and 
become deeply interested in rural occupations. She 
had a large and very fine flock of merino sheep, and 
she took great pleasure in superintending their cul- 
ture. A detachment of the imperial guard was, on 
such occasions, appointed to do duty at Malmaison. 
One evening the empress, sitting up till a later hour 
than usual, heard the sound of footsteps passing to 
and fro beneath her window. She sent for the 
officer of the guard, and inquired what it meant. 
He informed her that it was the sentry, who was 
appointed to keep watch beneath her window all 
night. "Sir," she replied, "I have no need of a 
night-guard. These brave soldiers have enough to 
suffer from the hardships of war when they are 
under the necessity of going to the field of battle. 
In my service they must have repose. 1 wish them 
here to have no sleepless nights." 

It is said that rather a ludicrous occurrence took 
place in one of the cities of the Rhine, in reference to 
a visit which the emperor and empress were about to 
make to that place. One of the distinguished ladies 
of the city, who was anticipating the honor of a 
presentation, wrote to obtain from the master of 
the ceremonies instructions respecting the etiquette to 
be observed. The answer contained very minute di- 
rections, and was couched in terms which conveyed 
a deep impression of their importance. Among other 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 217 

things, it was stated that three courtesies were to be 
made; one immediately upon entering the saloon, one 
in the middle of the room, and a third, en pirouette, 
when having arrived within a few paces of the 
emperor and empress. The familiar signification of 
en pirouette is whirling the body around rapidly upon 
the toes of one foot, the other foot being rather 
indecorously raised. The ladies assembled to study 
these Instructions; and though some of the young, 
the beautiful, and the graceful were not unwilling thus 
to display their lightness of limb, there were others 
who read en pirouette with consternation. The vast 
importance which Napoleon attached to every form 
of etiquette was well known. There was no alterna- 
tive; the fat and the lean, the tall and the short, 
ihe graceful and the awkward, all were to approach 
their majesties en pirouette, or to lose the honor of a 
presentation. "We have a fortnight for practice," 
said one of the ladies; "let us prepare ourselves." 
For fifteen days all the drawing-rooms of Cologne 
seemed to be filled with dancing dervises. Vener- 
able dowagers were twirling like opera girls, and not 
unfrequently measuring their portly length upon the 
carpet. En pirouette was the theme of every tongue, 
and the scene, morning, noon, and evening, in every 
ambitious saloon. 

On the evening of the arrival of the emperor and 
empress, the same lady who had written the letter 



2i8 JOSEPHINE [1805 

for instructions called upon one of the ladies of the 
court for still more precise directions. She then 
learned that, in court phrase, en pirouette simply in- 
dicated a slight inclination of the body toward their 
majesties, accompanying the courtesy. The intelli- 
gence was immediately disseminated through Cologne, 
to the great relief of some, and, probably, not a little 
to the disappointment of others. Josephine was ex- 
ceedingly amused at the recital of this misunderstand- 
ing. 

Josephine was often accused of extravagance. Her 
expenditures were undoubtedly very great. She at- 
tached no value to money but as a means of promot- 
ing happiness. She was, perhaps, too easily persuaded 
to purchase of those who were ever urging upon her 
the most costly articles, and appealing powerfully to 
her sympathies to induce her to buy. It was difficult 
for Josephine to turn a deaf ear to a tale of distress. 
Napoleon was ever ready to spend millions upon mil- 
hons in great public improvements, but he was not 
willing to have any money wasted. Josephine gave 
away most hberally in charity, and the emperor, at 
times, complained a little of the large sums which 
escaped through her hands. In replying once to a 
friend, who told her that she was deemed extrava- 
gant, she said, "When I have money, you know how 
I employ it. I give it principally to the unfortunate, 
who solicit my assistance, and to the poor emigrants. 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 219 

But I will try to be more economical in future. Tell 
the emperor so if you see him again. But is it not 
my duty to bestow as much charity as I can?" 

On one occasion Napoleon was much displeased 
by hearing that Josephine had suffered General Lorges, 
the commandant at Aix la Chapelle, a young and 
handsome man, to be guilty of the indiscretion of sit- 
ting upon the same sofa with the empress. He re- 
proached her with much severity for permitting such 
indecorum. Josephine explained the circumstances. 
Instead of its being General Lorges who had thus 
violated the rules of courtly propriety, it was one of 
the aged and veteran generals of Napoleon's army, 
who, inured to the hardships of the camp, was en- 
tirely unacquainted with the politeness of courts. He 
had been presented to Josephine, and, without any 
consciousness of the impropriety of which he was 
guilty, immediately seated himself upon the same sofa 
with the empress. Josephine was unwilling to wound 
the feelings of the honest-hearted old soldier, and per- 
mitted him to retain his seat until he withdrew. Na- 
poleon was perfectly satisfied with the explanation, 
and, upon receiving it, manifested renewed indica- 
tions of the affection and esteem with which he re- 
garded the empress. 

About this time Josephine was informed of the 
contemplated alliance between Eugene and the 
Princess-royal of Bavaria. She was soon summoned 



a2o JOSEPHINE [1805 

to Munich to attend their nuptials, and there again 
was united to those she so dearly loved. The bride 
of Eugene was in every respect worthy of him, and 
Josephine rejoiced over the happiness of her son. 
The victorious emperor and empress then returned to 
Paris, accompanied by a crowd of princes from the 
various courts of Germany. Josephine was now 
upon the very summit of earthly grandeur. Europe 
lay prostrate at the feet of her husband. Hortense 
was Queen of Holland. Eugene was Viceroy of Italy, 
and son-in-law to the King of Bavaria. Napoleon, 
fixing his affections upon the eldest child of Hor- 
tense, appeared to have relinquished the plan of the 
divorce, and to have contemplated the recognition of 
this child — the brother of Louis Napoleon, now 
President of the French Republic — as the heir of his 
crown. The embarrassment which had at times ac- 
companied their interviews had consequently passed 
away. Napoleon was proud of Josephine, and often 
said that there was no woman in the world to be 
compared with her. The empress was happy. All 
France was filled with stories of her active benevo- 
lence and her sympathy with the sorrowful. Wher- 
ever she made her appearance, she was greeted with 
the acclamations of the most enthusiastic attachment. 
Of the many tours which Josephine took with 
Napoleon, she frequently kept a journal, noting down 
the events of interest which occurred. The fragments 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 221 

of these journals, which have appeared before the 
public, beautifully exhibit the literary taste and the be- 
nevolence of heart of the empress. The following is 
an extract: 

"About two leagues from Bayonne the emperor 
was presented with a spectacle worthy of him. On 
the declivity of a mountain, gently scooped out in 
different parts of its descent, is pitched one of those 
camps which the foresight of the country has pro- 
vided for its defenders. It is composed of seven 
handsome barracks, dififerent in form and aspect, each 
isolated, surrounded with an orchard in full bearing, 
a well-stocked poultry-yard, and, at different dis- 
tances, a greater or less quantity of arable land, where 
a diversity of soil yields a variety of produce. One 
side of the mountain is wild, but picturesque, with 
rocks and plants. The other seems covered with rich 
tapestry, so varied and numerous are the plots of 
highly-cultivated ground. The summit is clothed with 
an ever-verdant forest. Down the center in a deep 
channel, flows a limpid stream, refreshing and ferti- 
lizing the whole scene. On this spot, the veterans 
who occupy it gave a fete to the emperor which was 
at once military and rural. The wives, daughters, 
and little children of these brave men formed the 
most pleasing, as they were themselves the noblest 
ornament of the festival. Amid piles of arms were 
seen beautiful shrubs covered with flowers, while the 



222 JOSEPHINE [1805 

echoes of the mountain resounded to the bleating of 
flocks and the warhke strains of a soldiery intoxi- 
cated on thus receiving their chief. The emperor 
raised this enthusiasm to the highest pitch by sitting 
down at a table at once quite military and perfectly 
pastoral. I dare not mention the attentions of which 
I was the object. They affected me deeply. I re- 
garded them as proofs of that veneration which France 
has vowed to the emperor." 

The infamous Ferdinand of Spain, who was then 
claiming the throne, in a disgraceful quarrel with his 
equally infamous father, sent an embassador to Ba- 
yonne to meet the emperor. Ferdinand, with the ut- 
most servility, was courting the support of Napoleon. 
The embassador possessed, some leagues from Ba- 
yonne, an extensive farm, on which were bred numer- 
ous flocks of merinos. "Thither," writes Josephine, 
"under a plausible pretext, we were conducted to- 
day. After a feast of really rustic magnificence, we 
made the tour of the possession on foot. At the bot- 
tom of a verdant dell, surrounded on all sides by 
rocks, covered with moss and flowers, all of a sud- 
den a picturesque cot appeared, lightly suspended on 
a projecting point of rock. Around it were feeding 
seven or eight hundred sheep of the most beautiful 
breed. We could not restrain a cry of admiration. 
Upon the emperor addressing some compliments to 
the embassador, he declared that these flocks belonged 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 223 

to me. 'The king, my master,' he added, 'knows 
the empress's taste for rural occupations, and as this 
species of sheep is little known in France, and will 
constitute the principal ornament, and, consequently, 
wealth of a farm, he entreats her not to deprive her- 
self of an offering at once so useful and so agreeable.' 
'Don Pedro,' replied the emperor, with a tone of se- 
verity, 'the empress can not accept a present save 
from the hand of a king, and your master is not yet 
one. Wait, before making your offering, till your 
own nation and 1 have decided.'" 

The ordinary routine of life with her, as empress, 
was as follows. Constant, the valet de chambre of 
Napoleon, gives the following account of the com- 
mencement of the day. "I had a regular order to 
enter the emperor's apartment at seven o'clock. 
When the empress passed the night there, it was a 
very unusual occurrence not to find the august 
spouses awake. The emperor commonly asked for 
tea or an infusion of orange-flowers, and rose im- 
mediately after. In the course of a few minutes the 
empress rose also, and, putting on a loose morning- 
gown, either read the journals while the emperor 
dressed, or retired by a private access to her own 
apartments, but never without addressing some kind 
and condescending words to myself." 

Josephine invariably commenced her morning toilet 
at nine o'clock. This occupied an hour, and then she 



224 JOSEPHINE [1805 

passed into a saloon where she received those who 
had obtained the favor of a morning presentation. 
A great many petitions were presented her on such 
occasions, and, with unvarying kindness, she man- 
ifested great firmness in rejecting those which ap- 
peared unworthy of her support. These audiences 
occupied an hour, and then she met, at eleven o'clock, 
the most distinguished ladies of the court at the 
breakfast-table. Napoleon, entirely engrossed by those 
majestic plans he was ever conceiving and executing, 
usually breakfasted alone in his cabinet, very hastily, 
not allowing more than seven or eight minutes to be 
occupied by the meal. After breakfast, Josephine, 
with her ladies, took a short walk, if the weather 
was fair, or for half an hour played a game of bil- 
liards. The remainder of the morning, until three 
o'clock, she passed in her apartment, with her chosen 
female friends, reading, conversing, and embroidering. 
Josephine herself was an admirable reader, and the 
book they were perusing was passed alternately from 
hand to hand. No works were read but those of real 
value. By common consent, all novels were banished 
from the circle, as Napoleon inveterately abominated 
every work of that kind. If he happened to find a 
novel in the hands of any of the attendants of the 
palace, he unhesitatingly tossed it into the fire, and 
roundly lectured the reader upon her waste of time. 
If Josephine had been a novel reader, she never could 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 225 

have acquired that mental energy which enabled her 
to fill with dignity and with honor every position she 
was called to occupy. 

Occasionally Napoleon would leave his cabinet and 
enter the apartment of the empress where the ladies 
were reading. His presence was ever cordially greeted, 
and, with great sociability, he would for a few mo- 
ments converse with his friends, and then return to 
his work. Not unfrequently the emperor wished to 
confer with Josephine upon some subject of moment. 
A gentle tap from his hand at the door of private 
communication announced to the empress the sum- 
mons, which she ever most joyfully obeyed. Occa- 
sionally these interviews were protracted for several 
hours, for the emperor had learned to repose great 
confidence in many matters upon the sound judgment 
of Josephine. 

At three o'clock the carriages were at the door, 
and Josephine, with her ladies, rode out. It was very 
seldom that Napoleon could find time to accompany 
them. On returning from the drive, she dressed for 
dinner. Napoleon attached much importance to this 
grand toilet, for he was fully aware of the influence 
of costume upon the public mind, and was very fond 
of seeing Josephine dressed with elegance and taste. 
It is reported that he not unfrequently recreated him- 
self by entering her boudoir on such occasions, and 
suggesting the robe or the jewelry he would like to 

M. ofH.— 5— 15 



226 JOSEPHINE [1805 

have her wear. Her waiting-women were not a little 
embarrassed by the manner in which his unskillful 
hands would throw about the precious contents of the 
caskets, and the confusion into which he would toss 
all the nameless articles of a lady's wardrobe. 

Dinner was appointed at six o'clock. It was, how- 
ever, served when Napoleon was ready to receive it. 
Not unfrequently, when much engrossed with business, 
he would postpone the hour until nine, and even ten 
o'clock. The cook, during all this time, would be 
preparing fresh viands, that a hot dinner might be 
ready at a moment's warning. A chicken, for instance, 
was put upon the spit every fifteen minutes. Napo- 
leon and Josephine always dined together, sometimes 
alone, more frequently with a few invited guests. 
There was a grand master of ceremonies, who, on all 
such occasions, informed the grand marshal of the 
necessary arrangements, and of the seat each guest 
was to occupy. 

Occasionally the emperor and empress dined in 
state. Rich drapery canopied the table, which was 
placed upon a platform, slightly elevated, with two 
arm-chairs of gorgeous workmanship, one for Na- 
poleon, and the other, upon his left, for Josephine. 
Other tables were placed upon the floor of the same 
room for illustrious guests. The grand marshal an- 
nounced to the emperor when the preparations for 
them to enter the room was completed. A gorgeous 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 227 

procession of pages, marshals, equerries, and chamber- 
lains accompanied the emperor and empress into the 
hall. Pages and stewards performed the subordinate 
parts of the service at the table, in bringing and re- 
moving dishes, while noblemen of the highest rank 
felt honored in ministering to the immediate wants of 
their majesties. Those who sat at the surrounding 
tables were served by servants in livery. 

Josephine passed the evening in her apartment 
almost invariably with a party either of invited guests, 
or of distinguished ministers and officers of the empire, 
who, having called on business, were awaiting the 
pleasure of Napoleon. There were frequent receptions 
and levees, which filled the saloons of the palace with 
a brilliant throng. At midnight all company retired, 
and the palace was still. Josephine loved the silence 
of these midnight hours, when the turmoil of the day 
had passed, and no sounds fell upon her ear but the 
footfalls of the sentinel in the court-yard below. She 
often sat for an hour alone, surrendering herself 
to the luxury of solitude and of undisturbed thought. 

Such was the general routine of the life of Jo- 
sephine while empress. She passed from one to another 
of the various royal residences, equally at home in all. 
At the Tuileries, St. Cloud, Versailles, Rambouillet, 
and Fontainebleau, life was essentially the same. Oc- 
casionally, at the rural palaces, hunting parties were 
formed for the entertainment of distinguished guests 



228 JOSEPHINE [1805 

from abroad. Napoleon himself took but little per- 
sonal interest in sports of this kind. On such 
occasions, the empress, with her ladies, usually rode 
in an open caleche, and a pic-nic was provided, to 
be spread on the green turf, beneath the boughs of 
the forest. Once a terrified, panting stag, exhausted 
with the long chase, when the hounds in full bay 
were just ready to spring upon him, by a strange in- 
stinct sought a retreat beneath the carriage in which 
the gentle heart of Josephine was throbbing. The ap- 
peal was not in vain. Josephine plead for the life of 
the meek-eyed, trembling suppliant. To mark it as 
her favorite, and as living under the shield of her 
protection, she had a silver collar put around its neck. 
The stag now roamed its native glades unharmed. 
No dog was permitted to molest it, and no sports- 
man would injure a prot6ge of Josephine. Her love 
was its talisman. 

The following letter, which at this time she wrote 
to Caroline, the sister of Napoleon, who had married 
Murat, will show the principles, in the exercise 
of which Josephine won to herself the love of all 
hearts, 

"Our glory, the glory of woman, lies in submis- 
sion; and if it be permitted us to reign, our empire 
rests on gentleness and goodness. Your husband, 
already so great in the opinion of the world through 
his valor and exploits, feels as if he beheld all his lau- 



i805] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 229 

rels brought to the dust on appearing in your pres- 
ence. You take a pride in humbling him before your 
pretensions; and the title of being the sister of a hero 
is, with you, reason for believing yourself a heroine. 
Believe me, my sister, that character, with the qualities 
which it supposes, becomes us not. Let us rejoice 
moderately in the glory of our husbands, and find our 
glory in softening their manners, and leading the world 
to pardon their deeds. Let us merit this praise, that 
the nation, while it applauds the bravery of our hus- 
bands, may also commend the gentleness bestowed 
by Providence on their wives to temper their brav- 
ery." 

The palace ever seemed desolate when Napoleon 
was absent, and Josephine was always solicitous to 
accompany him upon his tours. Napoleon loved to 
gratify this wish, for he prized most highly the com- 
panionship of his only confidential friend. Upon one 
occasion, when he had promised to take the empress 
with him, circumstances arose demanding special 
speed, and he resolved to set out secretly without her. 
He ordered his carriage at one o'clock in the morn- 
ing — an hour in which he supposed she would be 
most soundly asleep. To his amazement, just as he 
had stepped into his carriage, Josephine, in all the 
dishabille of her night-dress, with some slight drapery 
thrown over her person, and without even stockings 
upon her feet, threw herself into his arms. Some 



230 JOSEPHINE [1805 

noise had at the moment awoke her, she caught an 
intimation of what was going on, and, without a 
moment's thought, sprang from her bed, threw over 
her a cloak, rushed down stairs, and burst into the 
carriage. Napoleon fondly embraced her, rolled her 
up warmly in his own capacious traveling pelisse, 
gave orders for suitable attendants to follow with the 
wardrobe of the empress, and the horses, with light- 
ning speed, darted from the court-yard. "1 could 
sooner," Napoleon would jocosely say, "transport the 
whole artillery of a division of my grand army, than 
the bandboxes of Josephine's waiting-women." 

The visit which Josephine made with Napoleon to 
Spain gave her such an insight into the Spanish char- 
acter, that she looked with much alarm upon his en- 
deavor to place one of his brothers upon the Spanish 
throne. "Napoleon," said she one day to her ladies, 
"is persuaded that he is to subjugate all the nations 
of the earth. He cherishes such a confidence in his 
star, that should he be abandoned to-morrow by 
family and allies, a wanderer, and proscribed, he 
would support life, convinced that he should triumph 
over all obstacles, and accomplish his destiny by 
realizing his mighty designs. Happily, we shall 
never have an opportunity of ascertaining whether I 
am right. But of this you may rest assured. Napoleon 
is more courageous morally than physically. I know 
him better than any one else does. He believes 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 231 

himself predestinated, and would support reverses 
with as much calmness as he manifests when con- 
fronting danger on the field of battle." 

Little did Josephine imagine, when uttering these 
sentiments, that her proud husband, before whose 
name the world seemed to tremble, was to die in 
poverty and imprisonment on the most barren island 
of the ocean. 

The astounding energy of Napoleon was conspic- 
uously displayed about this time in his Spanish cam- 
paign. He had placed Joseph upon the throne of 
Spain, and had filled the Peninsula with his armies. 
The Spaniards had every where risen against him, 
and, guided by English councils, and inspirited by 
the tremendous energy of English arms, they had 
driven Joseph from his capital, had massacred, by the 
rage of the mob, thousands of French residents who 
were dwelling in the Spanish cities, and were rapidly 
driving the French army over the Pyrenees. Napoleon 
had but just returned from the treaty of Tilsit when 
he was informed of this discouraging state of affairs. 
He immediately, without a moment allowed for re- 
pose, set out for Spain. Josephine earnestly entreated 
permission to accompany the emperor. She assured 
him that she was fully aware of the difficulties, 
fatigue, and peril she must encounter, but that most 
cheerfully could she bear them all for the sake of be- 
ing with him. She said that she should neither feel 



232 JOSEPHINE [1805 

hunger nor cold, nor the need of repose, if she could 
but be by the side of her husband, and that all the 
privations of the camp would be happiness when 
shared with one who was all the world to her. Na- 
poleon was deeply moved by this exhibition of her 
love, but, aware of the incessant activity with which 
it would be necessary for him to drive by night and 
by day, he firmly but kindly denied her request. Jo- 
sephine wept bitterly as they parted. 

One morning, early in November, 1808, the glit- 
tering cavalcade of the emperor, at the full gallop, 
drove into the encampment of the retreating French 
at Vittoria. The arrival of an angel, commissioned 
from heaven to their aid, could not have inspired the 
soldiers with more enthusiasm. The heavens, rang with 
the shouts of the mighty host, as they greeted their 
monarch with cries of "Vive I'Empereur!" Not one 
moment was lost. Napoleon placed himself at the 
head of his concentrated army, and turning them, now 
inspirited with the utmost confidence, against the 
foes before whom they had been retreating, with the 
resistlessness of an avalanche overwhelmed the Span- 
ish forces. Wherever he appeared, resistance melted 
away before him. In the pride of achievements al- 
most miraculous, he marched into Madrid, and there, 
in the capital of Spain, re-established his fallen throne. 
But he tarried not there an hour for indulgence or 
repose. The solid columns of the English army, under 



i805] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 233 

Sir John Moore, were still in Spain. Napoleon urged 
his collected forces, with all the energy which hatred 
could inspire, upon his English foes, and the Britons, 
mangled and bleeding, were driven into their ships. 
The conqueror, feeling that he was indeed the man 
of destiny, looked for a moment complacently upon 
Spain, again in subjection at his feet, and then, with 
the speed of the whirlwind, returned to Josephine at 
St. Cloud, having been absent but little more than 
two months. 

In the mean time, while Napoleon was far away 
with his army, upon the other side of the Pyrenees, 
Russia, Sweden, and Austria thought it a favorable 
moment to attack him in his rear. They brought no 
accusations against the emperor, they issued no proc- 
lamation of war, but secretly and treacherously con- 
spired to march, with all the strength of their col- 
lected armies, upon the unsuspecting emperor. It was 
an alliance of the kings of Europe against Napoleon, 
because he sat upon the throne, not by hereditary 
descent, the only recognized divine right, but by the 
popular vote. The indignation of the emperor, and 
of every patriotic Frenchman, had been roused by 
the totally unjustifiable, but bold and honest avowal 
of England, that peace could only be obtained by the 
wresting of the crown from the brow of Napoleon, 
and replacing it upon the head of the rejected Bourbon, 

The emperor had been at St. Cloud but a short 



234 JOSEPHINE [1805 

time, when, early one spring morning, a courier 
came dashing into the court-yard of the palace at his 
utmost speed, bringing the intelligence to Napoleon 
that Austria had treacherously violated the treaty of 
peace, and, in alliance with Russia, Sweden, and Eng- 
land, was marching her armies to invade the territory 
of France. The emperor, his eye flashing with indig- 
nation, hastily proceeded to the apartment of the 
empress with the papers communicating the intelli- 
gence in his hand. Josephine was asleep, having but 
just retired. He approached her bed, and, awaking 
her from sound slumber, requested her to be ready 
in two hours to accompany him to Germany. "You 
have played the part of an empress," said he, play- 
fully, "long enough. You must now become again 
the wife of a general. 1 leave immediately. Will 
you accompany me to Strasburg?" This was short 
notice, but, with the utmost alacrity, she obeyed the 
joyful summons. 

She was so accustomed to the sudden movements 
of the emperor that she was not often taken by sur- 
prise. Promptness was one of the most conspicuous 
of her manifold virtues. "I have never," she has 
been heard to say, "kept any one waiting for me 
half a minute, when to be punctual depended upon 
myself. Punctuality is true politeness, especially in 
the great." 

The emperor was in glowing spirits. He had no 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS i^S 

doubt that he should be entirely victorious, and Jo- 
sephine was made truly happy by that suavity and 
those kind attentions which he in this journey so 
signally displayed. Their route conducted them 
through some of the most beautiful and fertile valleys 
of France. Every where around them they saw the 
indications of prosperity and happiness. Napoleon 
was in the height of glory. The most enthusiastic 
acclamations of love and homage greeted the em- 
peror and empress wherever the panting steeds 
which drew them rested for a moment. As they 
stopped for a new relay of horses in one of the lit- 
tle villages of Lorraine, Josephine beheld a peasant 
woman kneeling upon the steps of the village church, 
with her countenance bathed in tears. The aspect of 
grief ever touched the kind heart of the empress. 
She sent for the poor woman, and inquired into the 
cause of her grief. 

"My poor grandson, Joseph," said she, "is in- 
cluded in the conscription, and, notwithstanding all 
my prayers, he must become a soldier. And more 
than this, his sister Julie was to have been married 
to Michael, a neighbor's son, and now he refuses to 
marry her because Joseph is in the conscription. 
And should my son purchase a substitute for poor 
Joseph, it would take all his money, and he would 
have no dowry to give Julie. And her dowry was to 
have been a hundred and twenty dollars." 



236 JOSEPHINE [1805 

"Take that," said the emperor, presenting the 
woman with a purse. "You will find enough who 
will be ready to supply Joseph's place for that 
amount. I want soldiers, and, for that purpose, must 
encourage marriages." Josephine was so much in- 
terested in the adventure that, as soon as she arrived 
at Strasburg, she sent a valuable bridal present to 
Julie. The good woman's prayers were answered. 
From Strasburg Josephine returned to Paris, while 
Napoleon pressed on to encounter the combined 
armies of Austria and Russia in the renowned cam- 
paign of Wagram. 

It was in 1805, some years before the events we 
have just described, that Napoleon, with his enthusi- 
astic troops, embarked in the celebrated campaign of 
Ulm and Austerlitz. At Ulm he surrounded thirty 
thousand of his foes, and almost without a skirmish 
compelled them to lay down their arms. "Your 
master," said he to the Austrian generals, as, almost 
dying with mortification, they surrendered their 
swords, "your master wages against me an unjust 
war. I say it candidly, I know not for what I am 
fighting. I know not what he desires of me. He 
has wished to remind me that I was once a soldier. 
1 trust he will find that I have not forgotten my 
original avocation. I will, however, give one piece 
of advice to my brother, the Emperor of Austria, 
Let him hasten to make peace. This is the moment 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 237 

to remember that there are limits to all empires, how- 
ever powerful. The idea that the house of Lorraine 
may come to an end should inspire him with dis- 
trust of fortune. I want nothing on the Continent. 
/ desire ships, colonies, and commerce. Their ac- 
quisition would be as advantageous to you as to 
me. 

From Ulm, Napoleon, with two hundred thousand 
men, flushed with victory, rushed like a tempest 
down the valley of the Danube, driving the terrified 
Austrians before him like chaff swept by the whirl- 
wind. Ten thousand bombshells were rained down 
upon the roofs of Vienna, till the dwellings and the 
streets were deluged with the blood of innocence, 
and then the gates were thrown open for the entrance 
of the conqueror. Alexander, the Emperor of all the 
Russias, was hastening down from the North, with 
his barbarian hordes, to aid the beleaguered city. 
Napoleon tarried not at Vienna. Fearlessly pushing 
on through the sleet and the hail of a Northern win- 
ter, he disappeared in the distance from the eyes of 
France. Austria, Sweden, Russia, were assembling 
their innumerable legions to crush him. He was far 
from home, in a hostile country. Rumors that his 
rashness had led to his ruin began to circulate through- 
out Europe. 

Josephine was almost distracted with anxiety re- 
specting her husband. She knew that a terrible battle 



238 JOSEPHINE [1805 

was approaching, in which he was to encounter fear- 
ful odds. The most gloomy forebodings pervaded 
Paris and all France, Several days had passed, dur- 
ing which no intelligence whatever had been received 
from the distant army. Ominous whispers of defeat 
and ruin filled the air. The cold blasts of a Decem- 
ber night were whistling around the towers of St. 
Cloud, as Josephine and a few of her friends were 
assembled in the saloon, anxiously awaiting tidings 
from Napoleon. It was no time for hilarity, and no 
one attempted even to promote festive enjoyment. 
The hour of nine o'clock had arrived, and yet no 
courier appeared. All hopes of any tidings on that 
day were relinquished. Suddenly the clatter of iron 
hoofs was heard as a single horseman galloped into 
the court-yard. Josephine almost fainted with emo- 
tion as she heard the feeble shout, "Victory — Aus- 
terlitzl" She rushed to the window and threw it 
open. The horse of the courier had fallen dead upon 
the pavement, and the exhausted rider, unable to 
stand, was half reclining by his side. In the inten- 
sity of her impatience, Josephine rushed down the 
stairs and into the court-yard, followed by all her 
ladies. The faithful messenger was brought to her in 
the arms of four men. He presented to the empress 
a blurred and blotted line, which the emperor had 
written amid the thunder and the smoke, the uproar 
and the carnage of the dreadful day of Austerhtz. As 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 239 

soon as Napoleon saw the field covered with the 
slain, and the routed armies of his foes flying in dis- 
may before their triumphant pursuers, in the midst of 
all the horrors of that most horrible scene, he turned 
the energies of his impetuous mind from the hot pur- 
suit to pen a line to his faithful Josephine, announc- 
ing the victory. The empress, with tears almost 
blinding her eyes, read the billet where she stood, by 
the light of a torch which an attendant had brought 
her. She immediately drew from her finger a valu- 
able diamond ring, and presented it to the bearer of 
the joyful message. The messenger was Moustache 
the Mameluke, who had accompanied Napoleon from 
Egypt, and who was so celebrated for the devotion 
of his attachment to the emperor. He had ridden on 
horseback one hundred and fifty miles within twelve 
hours. 

Napoleon was exceedingly sensitive to any appar- 
ent want of affection or attention on the part of Jo- 
sephine. A remarkable occurrence, illustrative of this 
sensitiveness, took place on his return from his last 
Austrian campaign. When he arrived at Munich, 
where he was delayed for a short time, he dispatched 
a courier to Josephine, informing her that he would 
be at Fontainebleau on the evening of the twenty- 
seventh, and expressing a wish that the court should 
be assembled there to meet him. He, however, in 
his eagerness, pressed on with such unanticipated 



240 JOSEPHINE [1805 

speed, that he arrived early in the morning of the 
twenty-sixth, thirty-six hours earlier than the time he 
had appointed. He had actually overtaken his cou- 
rier, and entered with him the court-yard at Fontaine- 
bleau. Very unreasonably annoyed at finding no one 
there to receive him, he said to the exhausted cou- 
rier, as he was dismounting from his horse, "You 
can rest to-morrow; gallop to St. Cloud, and an- 
nounce my arrival to the empress." It was a dis- 
tance of forty miles. Napoleon was very impatient 
all the day, and, in the evening, hearing a carriage 
enter the court-yard, he eagerly ran down, as was 
his invariable custom, to greet Josephine. To his 
great disappointment, the carriage contained only 
some of her ladies. "And where is the empress?" 
he exclaimed, in surprise. "We have preceded her 
by perhaps a quarter of an hour," they replied. The 
emperor was now in very ill humor. "A very happy 
arrangement," said he, sarcastically; and, turning upon 
his heel, he ascended to the little library, where he 
had been busily employed. 

Soon Josephine arrived. Napoleon, hearing the 
carriage enter the court, coldly asked who had come. 
Being informed that it was the empress, he moved 
not from his seat, but went on very busily with his 
writing. The attendants were greatly surprised, for 
he never before had been known to omit meeting the 
empress at her carriage. Josephine, entirely uncon- 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 241 

scious of any fault, and delighted with the thought of 
again meeting her husband, and of surprising him in 
his cabinet, hastened up stairs and entered the room. 
Napoleon looked up coldly from his papers, and ad- 
dressed her with the chilling salutation, "And so, 
madame, you have come at last! It is well. I was 
just about to set out for St. Cloud." Josephine burst 
into tears, and stood silently sobbing before him. 
Napoleon was conquered. His own conscience re- 
proved him for his exceeding injustice. He rose from 
his seat, exclaiming, "Josephine, I am wrong; for- 
give me;" and, throwing his arms around her neck, 
embraced her most tenderly. The reconciliation was 
immediate and perfect, for the gentle spirit of Jo- 
sephine could retain no resentment. 

Napoleon had a very decided taste in reference to 
Josephine's style of dress, and her only ambition was 
to decorate her person in a manner which would be 
agreeable to him. On this occasion she retired very 
soon to dress for dinner. In about half an hour she 
reappeared, dressed with great elegance, in a robe of 
white satin, bordered with eider down, and with a 
wreath of blue flowers, entwined with silver ears of 
corn, adorning her hair. Napoleon rose to meet her, 
and gazed upon her with an expression of great fond- 
ness. Josephine said, with a smile, "You do not 
think that I have occupied too muqh time at my 
toilet?" Napoleon pointed playfully to the clock 

JVLofH.— 5— 16 



242 JOSEPHINE [1805 

upon the mantel, which indicated the hour of half 
past seven, and, taking the hand of his wife, entered 
the dining-room. 

Though Napoleon often displayed the weaknesses 
of our fallen nature, he at times exhibited the noblest 
traits of humanity. On one occasion, at Boulogne, 
he was informed of a young English sailor", a prisoner 
of war, who had escaped from his imprisonment in 
the interior of France, and had succeeded in reach- 
ing the coast near that town. He had secretly con- 
structed, in an unfrequented spot, a little skiff, of the 
branches and bark of trees, in which fabric, almost 
as fragile as the ark of bulrushes, he was intending 
to float out upon the storm-swept channel, hoping to 
be picked up by some English cruiser and conveyed 
home. Napoleon was struck with admiration m 
view of the fearlessness of the project, and, sending 
for the young man, questioned him very minutely 
respecting the motives which could induce him to 
undertake so perilous an adventure. The emperor 
expressed some doubt whether he would really have 
ventured to encounter the dangers of the ocean in so 
frail a skiff. The young man entreated Napoleon to 
ascertain whether he was in earnest by granting him 
permission to carry his design into execution. "You 
must doubtless, then," said the emperor, "have some 
mistress to revisit, since you are so desirous to return 
to your country.?" "No!" replied the sailor, "I 



i8o5] JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 243 

wish to see my mother. She is aged and infirm." 
The heart of the emperor was touched. "You shall 
see her," he energetically and promptly replied. He 
immediately gave orders that the young man should 
be thoroughly furnished with all comforts, and sent 
in a cruiser, with a flag of truce, to the first British 
vessel which could be found. He also gave the 
young man a purse for his mother, saying, "She 
must be no common parent who can have trained up 
so affectionate and dutiful a son." 




CHAPTER XII. 
The Divorce and Last Days. 

Napoleon's prospective heir.— Death of the child.— Grandeur of Napoleon. — 
Struggle in his besom. — Dejection of Napoleon. — His energy. — Grief of 
Josephine. — Her forebot'inga. — Napoleon absents himself from her 
society. — Anguish of Napoleon. — Difficulty In selecting a bride. — A 
silent dinner at Fontainebleau. — The communication to Josephine. — 
Effects thereof. — Agitation of Napoleon. — A night of anguish. — Anni- 
versary of the victory at Austerlitz. — Eugene summoned from Italy. — In- 
terview vi^ith Napoleon. — He is not without feeling. — The council 
assembled. — Address of Napoleon. — He is still the friend of Josephine. 

— Her response.— The council again assembled. — Consummation of the 
divorce. — Entrance of Josephine. — Emotion of Hortense. — Josephine 
signs the divorce.— Anguish of Eugene.— Last private interview be- 
tween Josephine and Napoleon.— The final adieu.— Mental anguish of 
Napoleon.— Malmaison assigned to Josephine as her future residence.^ 
Josephine leaves the Tuileries. — Madame de Rochefoucault. — Josephine 
submissive to her lot. — Morning parties. — Social habits. — Daily routine 
at Malmaison.— The airing.— The dinner hour.— Mirthful evenings.— 
Marriage of Napoleon and Maria Louisa. — Birth of the King of Rome.— 
Letter from Josephine. — Josephine's interest in the son of Napoleon.— 
Her joy at his birth.— Her desire for information. — A letter from Napo- 
leon. — Deep emotion of Josephine. — Amiability of Napoleon. — He pre- 
sents his son to Josephine. — Generous conduct of Josephine. — Letter 
to her superintendent. — Refined taste of Josephine. — Continued grief 
of Josephine. — Palace of Navarre. — Letter to Napoleon.— Josephine de- 
sires repose. — Occupation of Josephine at Navarre. — M. Bourlier. — 
Character of Josephine's household.— Conversation between Napoleon 
and Josephine. — Their last interview — Napoleon continues his corre- 
spondence.— Days of disaster. — Approach of the allied armies.— Alarm of 
Josephine. — Accident. — Josephine at Navarre. — A melancholy incident. 

— Brutality of the Cossacks.— Affecting note from Napoleon. — His 
downfall.— Letter from Napoleon to Josephine. — False friends.— Jo- 
sephine resolves not to abandon Napoleon. — Honor paid to Josephine.— 
Commendation of Alexander.— Letter to Napoleon. — Illustrious party 
at Malmaison.— Illness of Josephine.— Josephine always desired the 
happiness of France.— Affecting prayer.— Death of Josephine.— Tribute 
to her memory by Alexander.- Funeral ceremonies.— Monumental in- 
scription. 

(244) 



i8o7] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 245 

ALLUSION has already been made to the strong 
attachment with which Napoleon cherished 
his httle grandchild, the son of Hortense 
and of his brother Louis. The boy was extremely 
beautiful, and developed all those noble and spirited 
traits of character which peculiarly delighted the em- 
peror. Napoleon had apparently determined to make 
the young prince his heir. This was so generally the 
understanding, both in France and in Holland, that Jo- 
sephine was quite at ease, and serene days dawned 
again upon her heart. 

Early in the spring of 1807, this child, upon whom 
such destinies were depending, then five years of 
age, was seized suddenly and violently with the 
croup, and in a few hours died. The blow fell upon 
the heart of Josephine with most appalling power. 
Deep as was her grief at the loss of the child, she 
Was overwhelmed with uncontrollable anguish in 
view of those fearful consequences which she shud- 
dered to contemplate. She knew that Napoleon 
loved her fondly, but she also knew the strength of 
his ambition, and that he would make any sacrifice 
of his affection, which, in his view, would subserve 
the interests of his power and his glory. For three 
days she shut herself up in her room, and was con- 
tinually bathed in tears. 

The sad intelligence was conveyed to Napoleon 
when he was far from home, in the midst of thd 



246 JOSEPHINE [1807 

Prussian campaign. He had been victorious, almost 
miraculously victorious, over his enemies. He had 
gained accessions of power such as, in the wildest 
dreams of youth, he had hardly imagined. All oppo- 
sition to his sway was now apparently crushed. 
Napoleon had become the creator of kings, and the 
proudest monarchs of Europe were constrained to do 
his bidding. It was in an hour of exultation that the 
mournful tidings reached him. He sat down in silence, 
buried his face in his hands, and for a long time 
seemed lost in the most painful musings. He was 
heard mournfully and anxiously to repeat to himself 
again and again, "To whom shall I leave all this ?" 
The struggle in his mind between his love for Joseph- 
ine and his ambitious desire to found a new dynasty, 
and to transmit his name and fame to all posterity, 
was fearful. It was manifest in his pallid cheek, in 
his restless eye, in the loss of appetite and of sleep. 
But the stern will of Bonaparte was unrelenting in its 
purposes. With an energy which the world has 
never seen surpassed, he had chosen his part. It was 
the purpose of his soul — the purpose before which 
every thing had to bend — to acquire the glory of 
making France the most illustrious, powerful, and happy 
nation earth had ever seen. For this he was ready 
to sacrifice comfort, ease, and his sense of right. For 
this he was ready to sunder the strongest ties of affec- 
tion. 



i8o7] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 247 

Josephine knew Napoleon. She was fully aware 
of his boundless ambition. With almost insupportable 
anguish she wept over the death of this idolized 
child, and, with a trembling heart, awaited her hus- 
band's return. Mysterious hints began to fill the 
journals of the contemplated divorce, and of the al- 
liance of Napoleon with various princesses of Toreign 
courts. 

In October, 1807, Napoleon returned from Vienna. 
He greeted Josephine with the greatest kindness, but 
she soon perceived that his mind was ill at ease, and 
that he was pondering the fearful question. He ap- 
peared sad and embarrassed. He had frequent private 
interviews with his ministers. A general feeling of 
constraint pervaded the court. Napoleon scarcely ven- 
tured to look upon his wife, as if apprehensive that 
the very sight of one whom he had loved so well 
might cause him to waver in his firm purpose. 
Josephine was in a state of the most feverish solici- 
tude, and yet was compelled to appear calm and un- 
constrained. As yet she had only fearful forebodings 
of her impending doom. She watched, with most 
excited apprehension, every movement of the em- 
peror's eye, every intonation of his voice, every sen- 
timent he uttered. Each day some new and trivial 
indication confirmed her fears. Her husband became 
more reserved, absented himself from her society, and 
the private access between their apartments was 



248 JOSEPHINE [1807 

closed. He now seldom entered her room, and when- 
ever he did so, he invariably knocked. And yet not 
one word had passed between him and Josephine 
upon the fearful subject. Whenever Josephine heard 
the sound of his approaching footsteps, the fear that 
he was coming with the terrible announcement of 
separation immediately caused such violent palpita- 
tions of the heart that it was with the utmost diffi- 
culty she could totter across the floor, even when 
supporting herself by leaning against the walls, and 
catching at the articles of furniture. 

The months of October and November passed 
away, and, while the emperor was discussing with 
his cabinet the alliance into which he should enter, he 
had not yet summoned courage to break the subject 
to Josephine, The evidence is indubitable that he 
ex):erienced intense anguish in view of the separation, 
but this did not influence his iron will to swerve 
from its purpose. The grandeur of his fame and the 
magnitude of his power were now such, that there 
was not a royal family in Europe which would not 
have felt honored in conferring upon him a bride. It 
was at first contemplated that he should marry some 
princess of the Bourbon family, and thus add to the 
stabihty of his throne by conciliating the Royalists 
of France. A princess of Saxony was proposed. 
Some weighty considerations urged an alliance with 
the majestic empire of Russia, and some advances 



i8o9] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 249 

were made to the court of St. Petersburgh, having in 
view a sister of the Emperor Alexander. It was 
finally decided that proposals should be made to the 
court of Vienna for Maria Louisa, daughter of the 
Emperor of Austria. 

At length the fatal day arrived for the announce- 
ment to Josephine. It was the last day of November, 
1809. The emperor and empress dined at Fontaine- 
bleau alone. She seems to have had a presentiment 
that her doom was sealed, for all that day she had 
been in her retired apartment, weeping bitterly. As 
the dinner-hour approached, she bathed her swollen 
eyes, and tried to regain composure. They sat down 
at the table in silence. Napoleon did not speak. 
Josephine could not trust her voice to utter a word. 
Neither ate a mouthful. Course after course was 
brought in and removed untouched. A mortal pale- 
ness revealed the anguish of each heart. Napoleon, 
in his embarrassment, mechanically, and apparently 
unconsciously, struck the edge of his glass with his 
knife, while lost in thought. A more melancholy 
meal probably was never witnessed. The attendants 
around the table seemed to catch the infection, and 
moved softly and silently in the discharge of their 
duties, as if they were in the chamber of the dead. 
At last the ceremony of dinner was over, the attend- 
ants were dismissed, and Napoleon, rising, and clos- 
ing the door with his own hand, was left alone with 



250 JOSEPHINE [1809 

Josephine. Another moment of most painful silence 
ensued, when the emperor, pale as death, and trem- 
bling in every nerve, approached the empress. He 
took her hand, placed it upon his heart, and in faltering 
accents said, "Josephine! my own good Josephine! 
you know how I have loved you. It is to you alone 
that I owe the only few moments of happiness I 
have known in the world. Josephine! my destiny is 
stronger than my will. My dearest affections must 
yield to the interests of France." 

Josephine's brain reeled; her blood ceased to cir- 
culate; she fainted, and fell lifeless upon the floor. 
Napoleon, alarmed, threw open the door of the 
saloon, and called for help. Attendants from the 
ante-room immediately entered. Napoleon took a 
taper from the mantel, and uttering not a word, but 
pale and trembling, motioned to the Count de Beau- 
mont to take the empress in his arms. She was still 
unconscious of every thing, but began to murmur, in 
tones of anguish, "Oh, no? you can not surely do 
It. You would not kill me." The emperor led the 
way, through a dark passage, to the private staircase 
which conducted to the apartment of the empress. 
The agitation of Napoleon seemed now to increase. 
He uttered some incoherent sentences about a violent 
nervous attack; and, finding the stairs too steep and 
narrow for the Count de Beaumont to bear the body 
of the helpless Josephine unassisted, he gave the 



i8o9] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 251 

light to an attendant, and, supporting her limbs him- 
self, they reached the door of her bed-room. Na- 
poleon then, dismissing his male attendants, and 
laying Josephine upon her bed, rang for her waiting- 
women. He hung over her with an expression of 
the most intense affection and anxiety until she began 
to revive. But the moment consciousness seemed re- 
turning, he left the room. Napoleon did not even 
throw himself upon his bed that night. He paced 
the floor until the dawn of the morning. The royal 
surgeon, Corvisart, passed the night at the bed-side 
of the empress. Every hour the restless yet unrelent- 
ing emperor called at her door to inquire concerning 
her situation. "On recovering from my swoon," says 
Josephine, "I perceived that Corvisart was in attend- 
ance, and my poor daughter, Hortense, weeping over 
me. No! no! I can not describe the horror of my 
situation during that night ! Even the interest he 
affected to take in my sufferings seemed to me 
additional cruelty. Oh! how much reason had I to 
dread becoming an empress!" 

A fortnight now passed away, during which Na- 
poleon and Josephine saw but little of each other. 
During this time there occurred the anniversary of 
the coronation, and of the victory of Austerlitz. Paris 
was filled with rejoicing. The bells rang their merri- 
est peals. The metropolis was refulgent with illumi- 
nations. In these festivities Josephine was compelled 



252 JOSEPHINE [1809 

to appear. She knew that the sovereigns and prin- 
ces then assembled in Paris were informed of her 
approaching disgrace. In all these sounds of triumph 
she heard but the knell of her own doom. And 
though a careful observer would have detected indi- 
cations, in her moistened eye and her pallid cheek, 
of the secret woe which was consuming her heart, 
her habitual affability and grace never, in public, for 
one moment forsook her. Hortense, languid and sor- 
row-stricken, was with her mother. 

Eugene was summoned from Italy, He hastened 
to Paris, and his first interview was with his mother. 
From her saloon he went directly to the cabinet of 
Napoleon, and inquired of the emperor if he had de- 
cided to obtain a divorce from the empress. Na- 
poleon, who was very strongly attached to Eugene, 
made no reply, but pressed his hand as an expression 
that it was so. Eugene immediately dropped the 
hand of the emperor, and said, 

"Sire, in that case, permit me to withdraw from 
your service.". 

"How!" exclaimed Napoleon, looking upon him 
sadly; "will you, Eugene, my adopted son, leave 
me?" 

"Yes, sire," Eugene replied, firmly; "the son of 
her who is no longer empress can not remain viceroy. 
I will follow my mother into her retreat. She must 
now find her consolation in her children." 



i8o9] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 253 

Napoleon was not without feelings. Tears filled 
his eyes. In a mournful voice, tremulous with emo- 
tion, he replied, "Eugene, you know the stern ne- 
cessity which compels this measure, and will you 
forsake me? Who, then, should I have a son, the 
object of my desires and preserver of my interests, 
who would watch over the child when I am absent? 
If I die, who will prove to him a father? Who will 
bring him up? Who is to make a man of him?" 

Eugene was deeply affected, and, taking Napoleon's 
arm, they retired and conversed a long time together. 
The noble Josephine, ever sacrificing her own feelings 
to promote the happiness of others, urged her son to 
remain the friend of Napoleon. "The emperor," she 
said, "is your benefactor — your more than father, to 
whom you are indebted for every thing, and to whom, 
therefore, you owe a boundless obedience." 

The fatal day for the consummation of the divorce 
at length arrived. It was the 15th of December, 1809. 
Napoleon had assembled all the kings, princes, and 
princesses who were members of the imperial family, 
and also the most illustrious officers of the empire, in 
the grand saloon of the Tuileries. Every individual 
present was oppressed with the melancholy grandeur 
of the occasion. Napoleon thus addressed them: 

"The political interests of my monarchy, the 
wishes of my people, which have constantly guided 
my actions, require that I should transmit to an heir. 



254 JOSEPHINE [1809 

inheriting my love for the people, the throne on which 
Providence has placed me. For many years 1 have 
lost all hopes of having children by my beloved 
spouse, the Empress Josephine. It is this consider- 
ation which induces me to sacrifice the sweetest 
affections of my heart, to consult only the good of 
my subjects, and to desire the dissolution of our 
marriage. Arrived at the age of forty years, I may 
indulge a reasonable hope of living long enough to 
rear, in the spirit of my own thoughts and dispo- 
sition, the children with which it may please Prov- 
idence to bless me. God knows what such a 
determination has cost my heart; but there is no sac- 
rifice which is above my courage, when it is proved 
to be for the interests of France. Far from having 
any cause of complaint, I have nothing to say but in 
praise of the attachment and tenderness of my be- 
loved wife. She has embellished fifteen years of my 
life, and the remembrance of them will be forever 
engraven on my heart. She was crowned by my 
hand; she shall retain always the rank and title of 
empress. Above all, let her never doubt my feelings, 
or regard me but as her best and dearest friend." 

Josephine, her eyes filled with tears, with a fal- 
tering voice, replied, "1 respond to all the sentiments 
of the emperor in consenting to the dissolution of a 
marriage which henceforth is an obstacle to the hap- 
piness of France, by depriving it of the blessing of 



i8o9] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 255 

being one day governed by the descendants of that 
great man who was evidently raised up by Providence 
to efface the evils of a terrible revolution, and to re- 
store the altar, and the throne, and social order. 
But his marriage will in no respect change the sen- 
timents of my heart. The emperor will ever find in 
me his best friend. I know what this act, com- 
manded by policy and exalted interests, has cost his 
heart, but we both glory in the sacrifices we make 
for the good of the country. I feel elevated in giving 
the greatest proof of attachment and devotion that 
was ever given upon earth." 

Such were the sentiments which were expressed 
in public; but in private Josephine surrendered herself 
to the unrestrained dominion of her anguish. No 
language can depict the intensity of her woe. For 
six months she wept so incessantly that her eyes 
were nearly blinded with grief. Upon the ensuing 
day the council were again assembled in the grand 
saloon, to witness the legal consummation of the 
divorce. The emperor entered the room dressed in 
the imposing robes of state, but pallid, careworn, and 
wretched. Low tones of voice, harmonizing with the 
mournful scene, filled the room. Napoleon, apart by 
himself, leaned against a pillar, folded his arms upon 
his breast, and, in perfect silence, apparently lost in 
gloomy thought, remained motionless as a statue. A 
circular table was placed in the center of the apart- 



<iS6 JOSEPHINE [1809 

ment, and upon this there was a writing apparatus 
of gold. A vacant arm-chair stood before the table. 
Never did a multitude gaze upon the scaffold, the 
block, or the guillotine with more awe than the as- 
sembled lords and ladies in this gorgeous saloon 
contemplated these instruments of a more dreadful 
execution. 

At length the mournful siience was interrupted by 
the opening of a side door and the entrance of Jo- 
sephine. The pallor of death was upon her brow, 
and the submission of despair nerved her into a tem- 
porary calm.ness. She was leaning upon the arm of 
Hortense, who, not possessing the fortitude of her 
mother, was entirely unable to control her feelings. 
The sympathetic daughter, immediately upon entering 
into the room, burst into tears, and continued sobbing 
most convulsively during the whole remaining scene. 
The assembly respectfully arose upon the entrance of 
Josephine, and all were moved to tears. With that 
grace which ever distinguished her movements, she 
advanced silently to the seat provided for her. Sitting 
down, and leaning her forehead upon her hand, she 
listened to the reading of the act of separation. 
Nothing disturbed the sepulchral silence of the scene 
but the convulsive sobbings of Hortense, blending 
with the mournful tones of the reader's voice. 
Eugene, in the mean time, pale and trembling as an 
aspen leaf, had taken a position by the side of his 



i8o9] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 257 

mother. Silent tears were trickling down the cheeks 
of the empress. 

As soon as the reading of the act of separation 
was finished, Josephine for a moment pressed her 
handkerchief to her weeping eyes, and then, rising, 
in clear and musical, but tremulous tones, pronounced 
the oath of acceptance. She then sat down, took the 
pen, and affixed her signature to the deed which sun- 
dered the dearest hopes and the fondest ties which 
human hearts can feel. Poor Eugene could endure this 
anguish no longer. His brain reeled, his heart ceased 
to beat, and he fell lifeless upon the floor. Josephine 
and Hortense retired with the attendants who bore 
out the insensible form of the affectionate son and 
brother. It was a fitting termination of this mournful 
but sublime tragedy. 

But the anguish of the day was not yet closed. 
Josephine, half delirious with grief, had another scene 
still more painful to pass through in taking a final 
adieu of him who had been her husband. She remained 
in her chamber, in heart-rending, speechless grief, 
until the hour arrived in which Napoleon usually re- 
tired for the night. The emperor, restless and wretched, 
had just placed himself in the bed from which he had 
ejected his most faithful and devoted wife, and the 
attendant was on the point of leaving the room, when 
the private door of his chamber was slowly opened, 
and Josephine tremblingly entered. Her eyes were 

M, of H.— 5— 17 



258 JOSEPHINE [1809 

swollen with grief, her hair disheveled, and she ap- 
peared in all the dishabille of unutterable anguish. She 
tottered into the middle of the room, and approached 
the bed; then, irresolutely stopping, she buried her 
face in her hands, and burst into a flood of tears. A 
feeling of delicacy seemed for a moment to have ar- 
rested her steps — a consciousness that she had now 
no right to enter the chamber of Napoleon; but in 
another moment all the pent-up love of her heart burst 
forth, and, forgetting every thing in the fullness of her 
anguish, she threw herself upon the bed, clasped Na- 
poleon's neck in her arms, and exclaiming, "My hus- 
band! my husband!" sobbed as though her heart were 
breaking. The imperial spirit of Napoleon was for 
the moment entirely vanquished, and he also wept 
almost convulsively. He assured Josephine of his love 
— of his ardent and undying love. In every way he 
tried to soothe and comfort her, and for some time 
they remained locked in each other's embrace. The 
attendant was dismissed, and for an hour they con- 
tinued together in this last private interview. Jo- 
sephine then, in the experience of an -intensity of 
anguish which few hearts have ever known, parted 
forever from the husband whom she had so long, so 
fondly, and so faithfully loved. 

After the empress had retired, with a desolated 
heart, to her chamber of unnatural widowhood, the 
attendant entered the apartment of Napoleon to remove 



i8io] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 259 

the lights. He found the emperor so buried beneath 
the bed-clothes as to be invisible. Not a word was 
uttered. The lights were removed, and the unhappy 
monarch was left in darkness and silence to the 
dreadful companionship of his own thoughts. The 
next morning the death-like pallor of his cheek, 
his sunken eye, and the haggard expression of his 
countenance, attested that the emperor had passed the 
night in sleeplessness and suffering. 

Great as was the wrong which Napoleon thus in- 
flicted upon the noble Josephine, every one must be 
sensible of a certain kind of grandeur which pervades 
the tragedy. When we contemplate the brutal butch- 
eries of Henry VIII., as wife after wife was compelled 
to place her head upon the block, merely to afford 
room for the indulgence of his vagrant passions; when 
we contemplate George IV., by neglect and inhuman- 
ity driving Caroline to desperation and to crime, and 
polluting the ear of the world with the revolting 
story of sin and shame; when we contemplate the 
Bourbons, generation after generation, rioting in vo- 
luptuousness, in utter disregard of all the laws of God 
and man, while we can not abate one iota of our 
condemnation of the great wrong which Napoleon 
perpetrated, we feel that it becomes the monarchies 
of Europe to be sparing in their condemnation. 

The beautiful Palace of Malmaison, which Na- 
poleon had embellished with every possible attraction. 



26o JOSEPHINE [1810 

and where the emperor and empress had passed 
many of their happiest hours, was assigned to Jo- 
sephine for her future residence. Napoleon settled 
upon her a jointure of about six hundred thousand 
dollars a year. She was still to retain the title and 
the rank of Empress-Queen. 

The ensuing day, at eleven o'clock, all the house- 
hold of the Tuileries were assembled upon the grand 
staircase and in the vestibule, to witness the depar- 
ture of their beloved mistress from scenes where she 
had so long been the brightest ornament. Josephine 
descended, veiled from head to foot. Her emotions 
were too deep for utterance, and she waved an adieu 
to the affectionate and weeping friends who sur- 
rounded her. A close carriage, with six horses, was 
beiore the door. She entered it, sank back upon the 
cushions, buried her face in her handkerchief, and, 
sobbing bitterly, left the Tuileries forever. 

Josephine was still surrounded with all the exter- 
nal splendors of royalty. She was beloved through- 
out France, and admired throughout Europe. Napoleon 
frequently called upon her, though, from motives of 
delicacy, he never saw her alone. He consulted her 
respecting all his plans, and most assiduously cher- 
ished her friendship. It was soon manifest that the 
surest way of securing the favor of Napoleon was to 
pay marked attention to Josephine. The Palace of 
Malmaison, consequently, became the favorite resort 



i8io] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 261 

of all the members of the court of Napoleon. Soon 
after the divorce, Madame de Rochefoucault, formerly 
mistress of the robes to Josephine, deserting the for- 
saken empress, applied for the same post of honor in 
the household of Maria Louisa. Napoleon, when he 
heard of the application, promptly and indignantly re- 
plied, "She shall neither retain her old situation nor 
have the new one. 1 am accused of ungrateful con- 
duct toward Josephine, but 1 do not choose to have 
any imitators, more especially among those whom 
she has honored with her confidence, and over^ 
whelmed with benefits." 

Josephine remained for some time at Malmaison. 
In deeds of kindness to the poor who surrounded her, 
in reading, and in receiving, with the utmost elegance 
of hospitality, the members of the court of Napoleon, 
who were ever crowding her saloons, she gradually 
regained her equanimity of spirit, and surrendered 
herself entirely to a quiet and pensive submission. 
Napoleon frequently called to see her, and, taking her 
arm, he would walk for hours, most confidentially 
unfolding to her all his plans. He seemed to desire 
to do every thing in his power to alleviate the inten- 
sity of anguish with which he had wrung her heart. 
His own affections clung still to Josephine, and her 
lovely and noble character commanded, increasingly, 
his homage. The empress was very methodical in all 
ner arrangements, allotting to each hour its appointed 



262 JOSEPHINE [1810 

duty. The description of the routine of any one day 
would answer about equally well for all. 

Ten o'clock in the morning was the reception 
hour. These morning parties, attended by the most 
distinguished members of Parisian society, none ap- 
pearing except in uniform or in court costume, were 
always very brilliant. Some ten or twelve of the 
visitors were always previously invited to remain to 
breakfast. At eleven o'clock they passed from the 
saloon to the breakfast-room, the empress leading, 
followed by her court according to their rank, she 
naming those who were to sit on her right and lefto 
The repast, both at breakfast and dinner, ordinarily 
consisted of one course only, every thing excepting 
the dessert being placed upon the table at once. The 
empress had five attendants, who stood behind her 
chair; all the guests who sat down with her had one 
each. Seven officials of different ranks served at the 
table. The breakfast usually occupied three quarters 
of an hour, when the empress, with her ladies and 
guests, adjourned to the gallery, which contained the 
choicest specimens of painting and sculpture which 
the genius of Napoleon could select. The prospect 
from the gallery was very commanding, and, in entire 
freedom from constraint, all could find pleasant em- 
ployment. Some examined with delight the varied 
works of art; some, in the embrasures of the win- 
dows, looked out upon the lovely scenery; and in 



i8io] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 263 

subdued tones of voice engaged in conversation; 
while the chamberlain in attendance read aloud from 
some useful and entertaining volume to Josephine, 
and those who wished to listen with her. At two 
o'clock the arrival of the carriages at the door was 
the signal for the visitors to depart. Three open car- 
riages, when the weather permitted, were always pro- 
vided, each drawn by four horses. Madame d'Arberg, 
the lady of honor, one of the ladies in waiting, and 
some distinguished guest, accompanied the empress. 
Two hours were spent in riding, visiting improve- 
ments, and conversing freely with the various em- 
ployees on the estate. The party then returned to 
the palace, and- all disposed of their time as they 
pleased until six o'clock, the hour of dinner. From 
twelve to fifteen strangers were always invited to 
dine. After dinner the evening was devoted to relax- 
ation, conversation, backgammon, and other games. 
The young ladies, of whom there were always many 
whom Josephine retained around her, usually, in the 
course of the evening, withdrew from the drawing- 
room to a smaller saloon opening from it, where, 
with unrestrained glee, they engaged in mirthful 
sports, or, animated by the music of the piano, min- 
gled in the dance. Sometimes, in the buoyancy of 
youthful^ joy, they forgot the demands of etiquette, 
and somewhat incommoded, by their merry laughter, 
the more grave company in the grand apartment. 



264 JOSEPHINE [1810 

The lady of honor would on such occasions, hint at 
the necessity of repressing the mirth. Josephine 
would invariably interpose in their behalf "My dear 
Madame d'Arberg," she would say, "suffer both them 
and us to enjoy, while we may, all that innocent 
happiness which comes from the heart, and which 
penetrates the heart." At eleven o'clock, tea, ices, 
and sweetmeats were served, and then the visitors 
took their leave. Josephine sat up an hour later con- 
versing most freely and confidentially with those 
friends who were especially dear to her, and about 
midnight retired. 

In the month of March, 1810, Maria Louisa ar- 
rived in Paris, and her marriage with Napoleon was 
celebrated with the utmost splendor at St. Cloud. 
All France resounded with rejoicing as Napoleon led 
his youthful bride into the Tuileries, from whence, 
but three months before, Josephine had been so 
cruelly ejected. The booming of the cannon, the 
merry pealing of the bells, the acclamations of the 
populace, fell heavily upon the heart of Josephine. 
She tried to conceal her anguish, but her pallid cheek 
and swimming eye revealed the severity of her 
sufferings. 

Napoleon continued, however, the frequency of his 
correspondence, and, notwithstanding the jealousy of 
Maria Louisa, did not at all intermit his visits. In a 
little more than a year after his marriage the 



i8ii] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 265 

King of Rome was born. The evening in which Jo- 
sephine received the tidings of his birth, she wrote 
an affectionate and touching letter to Napoleon, con- 
gratulating him upon the event. This letter reveals so 
conspicuously the magnanimity of her principles, and 
yet the feminine tenderness of her bleeding heart, that 
we can not refrain from inserting it. It was dated at 
Navarre, at midnight, the 20th of March, 181 1. 

"Sire, — Amid the numerous felicitations which 
you receive from every corner of Europe, from all the 
cities of France, and from each regiment of your army, 
can the feeble voice of a woman reach your ear, and 
will you deign to listen to her who so often consoled 
your sorrows, and sweetened your pains, now that 
she speaks to you only of that happiness in which all 
your wishes are fulfilled? Having ceased to be your 
wife, dare I felicitate you on becoming a father? 
Yes, sire, without hesitation, for my soul renders jus- 
tice to yours, in like manner as you know mine. I 
can conceive every emotion you must experience, as 
you divine all that I feel at this moment, and, though 
separated, we are united by that sympathy which 
survives all events. 

"I should have desired to have learned the birth 
of the King of Rome from yourself, and not from the 
sound of the cannon of Evreux, or from the courier 
of the prefect. I know, however, that, in preference 
to all, your first attentions are due to the public au- 



266 JOSEPHINE [i8ii 

thorities of the state, to the foreign ministers, to your 
family, and especially to the fortunate princess who 
has realized your dearest hopes. She can not be more 
tenderly devoted to you than I am. But she has been 
enabled to contribute more toward your happiness by 
securing that of France. She has, then, a right to your 
first feelings, to all your cares, and I who was but 
your companion in times of difficulty — 1 can not ask 
more than for a place in your affections far removed 
from that occupied by the empress, Maria Louisa. 
Not till you have ceased to watch by her bed — not 
till you are weary of embracing your son, will you 
take the pen to converse with your best friend. I 
will wait. 

"Meanwhile, it is not possible for me to delay 
telling you that, more than any one in the world, do 
I rejoice in your joy. And you will not doubt my 
sincerity when I here say that, far from feeling an 
affliction at a sacrifice necessary for the repose of all, 
I congratulate myself on having made it, since I now 
suffer alone. But I am wrong; I do not suffer while 
you are happy, and 1 have but one regret, in not hav- 
ing yet done enough to prove how dear you were to 
me. I have no account of the health of the empress. 
I dare to depend upon you, sire, so far as to hope 
that I shall have circumstantial details of the great 
event which secures the perpetuity of the name you 
have so nobly illustrated. Eugene and Hortense will 



i8ii] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 267 

write me, imparting their own satisfaction; but it is 
from you tliat I desire to know if your cliild be well, 
if he resembles you, if I shall one day be permitted 
to see him. In short, I expect from you unlimited 
confidence, and upon such I have some claims, in 
consideration, sire, of the boundless attachment I 
shall cherish for you while life remains." 

She had but just dispatched this letter to Napo- 
leon, when the folding-doors were thrown open with 
much state, and the announcement, "From the em- 
peror," ushered in a page, the bearer of a letter. 
The fragile and beautiful youth, whom Josephine im- 
mediately recognized, had so carefully secured the em- 
peror's billet, from fear of losing it, that it took some 
time for him, in his slight embarrassment, to extri- 
cate it. Josephine was almost nervously excited till 
she received the note, and immediately retired with 
it to her own private apartment. Half an hour elapsed 
before she again made her appearance. Her whole 
countenance attested the intensity of the conflicting 
emotions with which her soul had been agitated. 
Her eyes were swollen with weeping, and the billet, 
which she still held in her hand, was blurred with 
her tears. She gave the page a letter to the emperor 
in reply, and then presented him, as an acknowledg- 
ment of her appreciation of the tidings he had brought, 
with a small morocco case, containing a diamond 
breastpin, and a thousand dollars in gold. 



268 JOSEPHINE [i8n 

She then, with a tremulous voice, and smiling 
through her tears, read the emperor's note to her 
friends. The concluding words of the note were, 
"This infant, in concert with our Eugene, will con- 
stitute my happiness and that of France." As Joseph- 
ine read these words, with emphasis, she exclaimed, 
"Is it possible to be more amiable! Could any thing 
be better calculated to soothe whatever might be 
painful in my thoughts at this moment, did I not so 
sincerely love the emperor? This uniting of my son 
with his own is indeed worthy of him who, when 
he wills, is the most delightful of men. This is it 
which has so much moved me." 

The emperor often afterward called upon her. He 
soon, notwithstanding the jealousy of Maria Louisa, ar- 
ranged a plan by which he presented to Josephine, in 
his own arms, the idolized child. These interviews, so 
gratifying to Josephine, took place at the Royal Pavil- 
ion, near Paris, Napoleon and Madame Montesquieu, 
governess to the young prince, being the only confi- 
dants. In one of Josephine's letters to Napoleon, she 
says, "The moment I saw you enter, leading the young 
Napoleon in your hand, was unquestionably one of the 
happiest of my life. It effaced, for a time, the recol- 
lection of all that had preceded it, for never have I 
received from you a more touching mark of affection." 

The apartment at Malmaison which Napoleon had 
formerly occupied remained exactly as it was when 



i8ii] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 269 

he last left it. Josephine herself kept the key, and 
dusted the room with her own hands. She would 
not permit a single article of furniture to be moved. 
The book he was last reading lay open upon the 
table, the map he was consulting, the pen with 
which he wrote, the articles of clothing which he 
had left in his accustomed disorder, all remained un- 
touched. Josephine's bed-chamber was very simply 
furnished with white muslin drapery, the only orna- 
ment being the golden toilet service which she had 
received from the municipality of Paris, and which, 
with characteristic generosity, she refused to consider 
as her own private property until Napoleon sent it to 
her. The following letter from Josephine, written at 
this time, pleasingly illustrates her literary polish and 
the refinement of her taste. It was addressed to the 
superintendent, ordering some alterations at Malmaison. 
"Profit by my absence, dear F., and make haste to 
dismantle the pavilion of the acacias and to transfer 
my boudoir into that of the orangery. I should wish 
the first apartment of the suite, and which serves 
for an ante-room, to be painted with light green, 
with a border of lilachs. In the center of the panels 
you will place my fine engravings from Esther, and 
under each of these a portrait of the distinguished 
generals of the Revolution. In the center of the 
apartment there must be a large flower-stand, con- 
stantly filled with fresh flowers in their season, and 



270 JOSEPHINE [1811 

in each angle a bust of a French philosopher. I par- 
ticularly mention that of Rousseau, which place 
between the two windows, so that the vines and 
foliage may play around his head. This will be a 

natural crown worthy of the author of Emile. As to 

.It 
my private cabinet, let it be colored light blue, with 

a border of ranunculus and polyanthus. Ten large 
engravings from the Gallery of the Musee, and 
twenty medallions, will fill up the panels. Let the 
casements be painted white and green, with double 
fillets, gilded. My piano, a green sofa, and two 
couches with corresponding covers, a secretaire, a 
small bureau, and a large toilet-glass, are articles you 
will not forget. In the center, place a large table, al- 
ways covered with freshly-gathered flowers, and upon 
the mantel-shelf a simple pendule, two alabaster vases 
and double-branched girandoles. Unite elegance to 
variety, but no profusion. Nothing is more opposed 
to good taste. In short, I confide to you the care of 
rendering this cherished spot an agreeable retreat, 
where I may meditate, sleep it may be, but oftenest 
read, which last is sufficient to remind you of three 
hundred volumes of my small edition." 

When Josephine first retired to Malmaison, where 
every thing reminded her of the emperor, her grief 
for many months continued unabated. To divert her 
attention, Napoleon conferred upon her the palace of 
Navarre. This was formerly a royal residence, and 



i8i3] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 271 

was renowned for its magnificent park. During the 
Revolution it had become much dilapidated. The 
elegant chateau was situated in the midst of the 
romantic forest of Evreux. The spacious grounds 
were embellished by parks, whose venerable trees 
had withstood the storms of centuries, and by beau- 
tiful streams and crystal lakes. The emperor gave 
Josephine nearly three hundred thousand dollars to 
repair the buildings and the grounds. The taste of 
Josephine soon converted the scene into almost a ter- 
restrial Eden, and Navarre, being far more retired than 
Malmaison, became her favorite residence. 

Soon after Josephine had taken up her residence 
at Navarre, she wrote the following letter to Na- 
poleon, which pleasingly illustrates the cordiality of 
friendship which still existed between them. 

**SiRE, — I received this morning the welcome note 
which was written on the eve of your departure for 
St. Cloud, and hasten to reply to its tender and af- 
fectionate contents. These, indeed, do not in them- 
selves surprise me, but only as being received so 
early as fifteen days after my establishment here, so 
perfectly assured was I that your attachment would 
search out the means of consoling me under a sepa- 
ration necessary to the tranquillity of both. The 
thought that your care follows me into my retreat 
renders it almost agreeable. 



272 JOSEPHINE [1813 

"After having known all the rapture of a love 
that is shared, and all the suffering of a love that is 
shared no longer — after having exhausted all the 
pleasures that supreme power can confer, and all the 
happiness of beholding the man whom I loved en- 
thusiastically admired, is there aught else, save repose, 
to be desired ? What illusions can now remain for 
me? All such vanished when it became necessary to 
renounce you. Thus the only ties which yet bind 
me to life are my sentiments for you, attachment for 
my children, the possibility of still being able to do 
some good, and, above all, the assurance that you are 
happy. Do not, then, condole with me on my being 
here, distant from a court, which you appear to think 
I regret. Surrounded by those who are attached to 
me, free to follow my taste for the arts, I find my- 
self better at Navarre than any where else, for I en- 
joy more completely the society of the former, and 
form a thousand projects which may prove useful to 
the latter, and which will embellish the scenes I owe 
to your bounty. There is much to be done here, for 
all around are discovered the traces of destruction. 
These I would efface, that there may exist no me- 
morial of those horrible inflictions which your genius 
has taught the nation almost to forget. In repair- 
ing whatever these ruffians of revolution labored 
to annihilate, I shall diffuse comfort around me, 
and the benedictions of the poor will afford me in- 



1 8 13] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 273 

finitely more pleasure than the feigned adulation of 
courtiers. 

"I have already told you what I think of the 
functionaries in this department, but have not spoken 
sufficiently of the respectable bishop, M. Bourlier. 
Every day I learn some new trait which causes me 
still more highly to esteem the man who unites the 
most enlightened benevolence with the most amiable 
disposition. He shall be intrusted with distributing 
my alms-deeds in Evreux, and, as he visits the in- 
digent himself, I shall be assured that my charities 
are properly bestowed. 

"I can not sufficiently thank you, sire, for the 
liberty you have permitted me of choosing the mem- 
bers of my household, all of whom contribute to the 
pleasure of a delightful society. One circumstance 
alone gives me pain, namely, the etiquette of costume, 
which becomes a little tiresome in the country. You 
fear that there may be something wanting to the rank 
I have preserved should a slight infraction be allowed 
to the toilet of these gentlemen; but I believe that 
you are wrong in thinking they would for one mo- 
ment forget the respect due to the woman who was 
once your companion. Their respect for yourself, 
joined to the sincere attachment they bear to me, 
which I can not doubt, secures me from the danger of 
ever being obliged to recall what it is your wish that 
they should remember. My most honorable title is 

M. of H.— 5-18 



274 JOSEPHINE [1813 

derived, not from having been crowned, but assuredly 
from having been chosen by you. None other is of 
value. That alone suffices for my immortality. 

"My circle is at this time somewhat more numer- 
ous than usual, there being several visitors, besides 
many of the inhabitants of Evreux and the environs, 
whom I see of course. I am pleased with their man- 
ners, with their admiration of you, a particular in 
which you know that I am not easily satisfied. In 
short, I find myself perfectly at home in the midst of 
my forest, and entreat you, sire, no longer to fancy 
to yourself that there is no living at a distance from 
court. Besides you, there is nothing there which I 
regret, since 1 shall have my children with me soon, 
and already enjoy the society of the small number of 
friends who remained faithful to me. Do not forget 
your friend. Tell her sometimes that you preserve 
for her an attachment which constitutes the felicity of 
her life. Often repeat to her that you are happy, and 
be assured that for her the future will thus be peace- 
ful, as the past has been stormy, and often sad." 

Just before Napoleon set out on his fatal campaign 
to Russia, he called to see Josephine. Seated upon a 
circular bench in the garden, before the windows of 
the saloon, where they could both be seen but not 
overheard, they continued for two hours engaged 
most earnestly in conversation. Josephine was ap- 



1 8 13] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 275 

parently endeavoring to dissuade him from the peril- 
ous enterprise. His perfect confidence, however, 
seemed to assure her that her apprehensions were 
groundless. At last he arose and kissed her hand. 
She accompanied him to his carriage, and bade him 
adieu. This was their last interview but one. Soon 
Napoleon returned, a fugitive from Moscow. Days of 
disaster were darkening around his path. All Europe 
had risen in arms against him, and were on the 
march toward his capital. In the midst of the terror 
of those dreadful days, he sought a hurried interview 
with his most faithful friend. It was their last meet- 
ing. As he was taking his leave of Josephine, at the 
close of this short and melancholy visit, he gazed 
upon her a moment in silence, tenderly and sadly, 
and then said, "Josephine! I have been as fortunate 
as was ever man on the face of this earth. But, in 
this hour, when a storm is gathering over my head, 
I have not, in this wide world, any one but you upon 
whom 1 can repose." 

In the fearful conflict which ensued — the most ter- 
rible which history has recorded — Napoleon's thoughts 
ever reverted to the wife of his youth. He kept up 
an almost daily correspondence with her, informing 
her of the passmg of events. His letters, written in 
the midst of all the confusion of the camp, were 
more affectionate and confiding than ever. Adversity 
had softened his heart. In these dark days, when, 



176 JOSEPHINE [1813 

with most Herculean power, he was struggling 
against fearful odds, and his throne was crumbling 
beneath his feet, it was observed that a letter from 
Josephine was rather torn than broken open, so great 
was the eagerness of Napoleon to receive a line from 
her. Wherever he was, however great the emergency 
in which he was placed, the moment a courier 
brought to him a letter from Josephine, all other 
business was laid aside until it had been read. 

The allied armies were every day approaching nearer 
and nearer to Paris, and Josephine was overwhelmed 
with grief in contemplating the disasters which were 
falling upon Napoleon. At Malmaison, Josephine and 
the ladies of her court were employed in forming 
bandages and scraping lint for the innumerable 
wounded who filled the hospitals. The conflicting 
armies approached so near to Malmaison that it be- 
came dangerous for Josephine to remain there, and, 
in great apprehension, she one morning, at eight 
o'clock, took her carriage for Navarre. Two or three 
times on the road she was alarmed by the cry, 
"Cossacks! Cossacks!" When she had proceeded 
about thirty miles, the pole of her carriage broke, 
and at the same time a troop of horsemen appeared 
in the distance, riding down upon her. They were 
French hussars; but Josephine thought that they were 
either Cossacks or Prussians, and, though the rain 
was falling in torrents, in her terror she leaped from 



i8i4] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 277 

the carriage, and began to fly across the fields. She 
had proceeded some distance before her attendants 
discovered the mistake. The carriage being repaired, 
she proceeded the rest of her way unmolested. The 
empress hardly uttered a word during this melan- 
choly journey, but upon entering the palace she 
threw herself upon a couch, exclaiming, ''Surely, 
surely Bonaparte is ignorant of what is passing within 
sight of the gates of Paris, or, if he knows, how 
cruel the thoughts which must now agitate his 
breast! Oh! if he had listened to me." 

Josephine remained for some days at Navarre, in 
a state of most painful anguish respecting the fate of 
the emperor. She allowed herself no relaxation, ex- 
cepting a solitary ride each morning in the park, and 
another short ride after dinner with one of her ladies. 
The Emperor Alexander had immediately sent a 
guard of honor to protect Josephine from all intru- 
sion. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers were swarm- 
ing in all directions, and every dwelling was filled 
with terror and distraction. One melancholy incident 
we will record, illustrative of hundreds which might 
be narrated. Lord Londonderry, in the midst of a 
bloody skirmish, saw a young and beautiful French 
lady, the wife of a colonel, in a caleche, seized by 
three brutal Russian soldiers, who were carrying 
off, into the fields, their frantic and shrieking victim. 
The gallant Englishman, sword in hand, rushed for- 



278 JOSEPHINE [1814 

ward for her deliverance from his barbarian allies. 
He succeeded in rescuing her, and, in the confusion 
of the battle still raging, ordered a dragoon to take 
her to his own quarters till she could be provided 
with suitable protection. The dragoon took the lady, 
half dead with terror, upon his horse behind him, 
and was galloping with her to a place of safety, 
when another ruffian band of Cossacks surrounded 
him, pierced his body with their sabers, and seized 
again the unhappy victim. She was never heard of 
more. The Emperor Alexander was greatly distressed 
at her fate, and made the utmost, though unavailing 
efforts to discover what had become of her. The 
revelations of the last day alone can divulge the hor- 
rors of this awful tragedy. 

The grief of Josephine in these days of anxiety 
was intense in the extreme. She passed her whole 
time in talking about Napoleon, or in reading the let- 
ters she had lately received from him. He wrote fre- 
quently, as he escaped from place to place, but many 
of his letters were intercepted by the bands of sol- 
diers traversing every road. The last she had re- 
ceived from him was dated at Brienne. It gave an 
account of a desperate engagement, in which the lit- 
tle band of Napoleon had been overwhelmed by num- 
bers, and was concluded with the following affecting 
words: "On beholding those scenes where I had 
passed my boyhood, and comparing my peaceful con- 



1 8 14] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 279 

dition then with the agitation and terrors which I 
now experience, I several times said, in my own 
mind, I have sought to meet death in many conflicts; 
I can no longer fear it. To me death would now be 
a blessing. But I would once more see Josephine." 

Notwithstanding the desperate state of affairs, Jo- 
sephine still cherished the hope that his commanding 
genius would yet enable him to retrieve his fortunes. 
All these hopes were, however, dispelled on the re- 
ceipt of the following letter: 

"Fontainebleau, April 16, 1814. 
"Dear Josephine, — 1 wrote to you on the eighth 
of this month, but perhaps you have not received my 
letter. Hostilities still continued, and possibly it may 
have been intercepted. At present the communica- 
tions must be re-established. 1 have formed my res- 
olution. 1 have no doubt that this billet will reach 
you. I will not repeat what 1 said to you. Then I 
lamented my situation, now I congratulate myself 
upon it. My head and spirit are freed from an enor- 
mous weight. My fall is great, but it may, as men 
say, prove useful. In my retreat 1 shall substitute the 
pen for the sword. The history of my reign will be 
curious. The world has yet seen me only in profile. 
1 shall show myself in full. How many things have 
I to disclose! how many are the men of whom a 
false estimate is entertained! I have heaped benefits 



28o JOSEPHINE [1814 

upon millions of wretches! What have they done in 
the end for mer They have all betrayed me — yes 
all. I except from this number the good Eugene, so 
worthy of you and of me. Adieu! my dear Josephine. 
Be resigned as I am, and never forget him who never 
forgot, and never will forget you. Farewell, Josephine. 

"Napoleon. 
" P. S. — I expect to hear from you at Elba. I am 
not very well." 

Upon reading these tidings of so terrible an over- 
throw, Josephine was overwhelmed with grief, and 
for a time wept bitterly. Soon, however, recovering 
her self-possession, she exclaimed, "I must not re- 
main here. My presence is necessary to the emperor. 
That duty is, indeed, more Maria Louisa's than mine, 
but the emperor is alone — forsaken. Well, I at least 
will not abandon him., I might be dispensed with 
while he was happy; now, I am sure that he expects 
me." After a pause of a few moments, in which she 
seemed absorbed in her own thoughts, she addressed 
her chamberlain, saying, "1 may, however, interfere 
with his arrangements. You will remain here with 
me till intelligence be received from the allied sov- 
ereigns; they will respect her who was the wife of 
Napoleon." 

She was, indeed, remembered by them. The 
magnanimity of her conduct under the deep wrongs 



i8i4] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 281 

of the divorce had filled Europe with admiration. The 
allied sovereigns sent her assurances of their most 
friendly regards. They entreated her to return to 
Malmaison, and provided her with an ample guard 
for her protection. Her court was ever crowded with 
the most illustrious monarchs and nobles, who sought 
a presentation to do homage to her virtues. The 
Emperor Alexander was one of the first to visit her. 
He said to her on that occasion, "Madame, I burned 
with the desire of beholding you. Since I entered 
France, I have never heard your name pronounced 
but with benedictions. In the cottage and in the 
palace 1 have collected accounts of your angelic good- 
ness, and 1 do myself a pleasure in thus presenting 
to your majesty the universal homage of which I am 
the bearer." 

Maria Louisa, thinking only of self, declined ac- 
companying Napoleon to his humble retreat. Joseph- 
ine, not knowing her decision, wrote to the emperor: 
"Now only can I calculate the whole extent of the 
misfortune of having beheld my union with you dis- 
solved by law. Now do 1 indeed lament being no 
more than your friend, who can but mourn over a 
misfortune great as it is unexpected. Ah! sire, why 
can I not fly to you ? Why can I not give 3'ou the 
assurance that exile has no terrors save for vulgar 
minds, and that, far from diminishing a sincere at- 
tachment, misfortune imparts to it a new force.? I 



282 JOSEPHINE [1814 

have been upon the point of quitting France to follow 
your footsteps, and to consecrate to you the remain- 
der of an existence which you so long embellished. A 
single motive restrained me, and that you may divine. 
If I learn that I am the only one who will fulfill her 
duty, nothing shall detain me, and I will go to the 
only place where, henceforth, there can be happiness 
for me, since I shall be able to console you when 
you are there isolated and unfortunate! Say but the 
word, and I depart. Adieu, sire; whatever I would 
add would still be too little. It is no longer by 
words that my sentiments for you are to be proved, 
and for actions your consent is necessary." 

A few days after this letter was written, the Em- 
peror Alexander, with a number of illustrious guests, 
dined with Josephine at Malmaison, In the evening 
twilight, the party went out upon the beautiful lawn 
in front of the house for recreation. Josephine, whose 
health had become exceedingly precarious through 
care and sorrow, being regardless of herself in devo- 
tion to her friends, took a violent cold. The next 
day she was worse. Without any very definite form 
of disease, she day after day grew more faint and 
feeble, until it was evident that her final change was 
near at hand. Eugene and Hortense, her most affec- 
tionate children, were with her by day. and by night. 
They communicated to her the judgment of her phy- 
sician that death was near. She heard the tidings 



i8i4] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 283 

with perfect composure, and called for a clergyman 
to administer to her the last rites of religion. 

Just after this solemnity the Emperor Alexander 
entered the room. Eugene and Hortense, bathed in 
tears, were kneeling at their mother's side, Josephine 
beckoned to the emperor to approach her, and said to 
him and her children, "1 have always desired the 
happiness of France. I did all in my power to con- 
tribute to it; and 1 can say with truth, to all of you 
now present, at my last moments, that the first wife 
of Napoleon never caused a single tear to flow." 

She called for the portrait of the emperor; she 
gazed upon it long and tenderly; and then, fervently 
pressing it in her clasped hands to her bosom, faintly 
articulated the following prayer: 

"O God! watch over Napoleon while he remains 
in the desert of this world. Alas! though he hath 
committed great faults, hath he not expiated them by 
great sufferings ? Just God, thou hast looked into 
his heart, and hast seen by how ardent a desire for 
useful and durable improvements he was animated. 
Deign to approve my last petition. And may this 
image of my husband bear me witness that my latest 
wish and my latest prayer were for him and my 
children." 

It was the 29th of May, 18 14. A tranquil sum- 
mer's day was fading away into a cloudless, serene, 
and beautiful evening. The rays of the setting sun, 



284 JOSEPHINE [1814 

struggling through the foliage of the open window, 
shone cheerfully upon the bed where the empress 
was dying. The vesper songs of the birds which 
filled the groves of Malmaison floated sweetly upon 
the ear, and the gentle spirit of Josephine, lulled to 
repose by these sweet anthems, sank into its last 
sleep. Gazing upon the portrait of the emperor, she 
exclaimed, ''L'isle d'Elbe — Napoleon!" and died. 

Alexander, as he gazed upon her hfeless remains, 
burst into tears, and uttered the following" affecting 
yet just tribute of respect to her memory: "She is no 
more; that woman whom France named the benefi- 
cent, that angel of goodness, is no more. Those who 
have known Josephine can never forget her. She 
dies regretted by her offspring, her friends, and her 
cotemporaries." 

For four days her body remained shrouded in state 
for its burial. During this time more than twenty 
thousand of the people of France visited her beloved 
remains. On the 2d of June, at mid-day, the funeral 
procession moved from Malmaison to Ruel, where the 
body was deposited in a tomb of the village church. 
The funeral services were conducted with the great- 
est magnificence, as the sovereigns of the allied ar- 
mies united with the French in doing honor to her 
memory. When all had left the church but Eugene 
and Hortense, they knelt beside their mother's grave, 
and for a long time mingled their prayers and their 



1 8 14] DIVORCE AND LAST DAYS 2^5 

tears. A beautiful monument of white marble, repre- 
senting the empress kneeling in her coronation robes, 
is erected over her burial-place, with this simple but 
affecting inscription: 

EUGENE AND HORTENSE 
TO 

JOSEPHINE. 




6 1906 



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